


Disillusioned

by Morraine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Happy Ending, Harry is a BAMF, Harry is also a little shit, Horcruxes, So is Cedric, because Harry deserves it, everyone can rot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:07:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morraine/pseuds/Morraine
Summary: When the portkey attached to the Goblet of Fire deposits Harry and Cedric in the graveyard in Little Hangleton, Harry is in no mood to accommodate Voldemort's sinister plans. He decides to fight back and that changes everything.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Cedric Diggory, Harry Potter & Sirius Black, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 119
Kudos: 844
Collections: Works worth reading again and again





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm a little shit. But don't worry, I haven't abandoned "Bite Me" or "Dobby's Deceit"! I just got plot-bunnied pretty badly back in November and since I needed a tiny break from "Bite Me" to think about my options I thought I'd just go for it. And man, the last three days were a fun ride! The words were practically jumping out onto the page by themselves. Most of the story is already written, so don't worry that this one will go on for as long as Bite Me did. "Disillusioned" will have around 20k, and all that's still left to write is the epilogue, which will happen tomorrow. Posting will happen every day until the story is complete. 
> 
> Now have fun! (And stay safe.)

**Prologue**

  
  


Harry had never regretted anything quite as fast as he regretted sharing the Triwizard Tournament victory with Cedric Diggory. 

It wasn’t Cedric’s fault, obviously, since the chap had turned out to be a genuinely nice guy. 

No, Harry’s regret was entirely based on the fact that sharing the victory meant that both he and Cedric brutally slammed to the ground in an abandoned graveyard who knew where instead of landing gently on the terrace by the maze at Hogwarts. It didn’t help that the harrowing _yank_ through space by the navel had taken several minutes instead of seconds, rendering them nearly insensible for long seconds. 

“I hate portkeys,” Cedric gasped and convulsed in a fight against the urge to chuck up his lunch. “Where are we?” 

Harry, who was pretty used to suppressing an upset stomach, stayed crouched but raised his head a little. “No idea. But it’s a bloody graveyard. Just my usual luck.” 

Cedric swallowed a couple of times, the sound eerily noisy in the misty silence between the graves. “What are we going to do now?” 

“We get out of here,” Harry murmured, alertly looking around. Wasn’t that the shine of a fire? “Stay down. Someone’s over there.” 

To his right, something rustled between the roses someone had planted around a large statue. Harry grabbed Cedric by the arm and tugged him backwards. 

“What’s taking so long?” a high, cold voice demanded. It sounded like its owner was quite a bit away. 

“Potter didn’t come alone, Master,” a snivelling voice answered. This one seemed to be a lot closer to where Cedric and Harry were hiding, to both their horror. “I can see the goblet, but they’re gone.” 

Cedric started badly but Harry only narrowed his eyes. “Pettigrew,” he hissed. “It’s him. And Voldemort.” 

“What!” It was now Cedric’s turn to grab Harry and drag him further behind a large gravestone. “V-Voldemort? Pettigrew?” 

“We do not have time for this,” the high voice cried, cutting off Harry’s somewhat sarcastic reply. “Kill the spare and bring me Potter!” 

There was more rustling in the rose bush, but also from slightly behind them. 

_There are at least two of them_ , Harry thought sourly. _Super_. 

Harry tapped Cedric’s shoulder and pointed behind them, motioning with his wand to stun or blast whoever was trying to surprise them. Cedric nodded in understanding, his face as grim as Harry’s, and set to work. 

Copying him, Harry sent a stunner right at the roses. The spell beheaded two dozen blossoms but ultimately missed its target, although it did manage to roust the Death Eater Harry believed to be Pettigrew. 

An Avada Kedavra was the prompt answer to that attack. Harry retreated behind the gravestone just in time, heart nearly beating out of his chest. The bright green light pulsated for a second behind his closed eyelids and the echo of his mother’s dying scream rang in his ears. 

“Holy shit!” Cedric whisper-shouted, tucking his head so far down that he looked like a spooked turtle. “This is serious! What do we do?” 

Another killing curse slammed into the gravestone. Since they refused to come out of hiding, the assailant was forced to advance on them. Harry chanced a look and quickly ducked down again when a sharp, red curse followed. 

“It _is_ Pettigrew,” Harry told Cedric, gulping. “Did you see who’s behind us?” 

“There’s movement, but I can’t see a person,” Cedric admitted. “Maybe an animal?” 

“In that case it’s probably a snake,” Harry replied without looking. He held out his hand, aimed low at Pettigrew and cursed when his stunner missed again. “I think I can hear it hissing now. It's getting closer! Kill it, if you can, before it gets to us.” 

“Come out, Harry!” Pettigrew called, giving up all pretence of stealth. “Resistance is futile! The Dark Lord will have you, with or without your cooperation!” 

“That sounds perverse,” Cedric said. “You won’t cooperate, you hear me? Reducto!” 

Two rows away, there was a loud hiss and the strangely thumpy sounds of something thrashing on the dried out ground. 

Harry winced in sympathy at the snaky equivalent of a death scream, only to be flooded with an intense feeling of relief. _One down, two more to go._

“I think I hit it!” Cedric cheered. At the same time, the cold, childish voice let out an ear-splitting scream. 

“Nagini!” 

Despite himself, Harry was distracted by the ruckus and it nearly cost both his and Cedric’s life. Pettigrew had managed to traipse around in a loose circle and was now in Harry’s direct line of sight. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Pettigrew yelled, shooting the curse at Cedric. 

“Accio gravestone!” Harry shouted desperately and also threw himself in front of Cedric. 

At the last moment, the neighbouring stone broke loose and blocked the curse. Unfortunately, it broke under the force of Pettigrew’s magic. A few tendrils of the green light seeped through the cracks before it winked out, touching Harry’s protectively raised arms and face … 

… and he fell into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

“Harry.” 

“Mmh?” Slowly, Harry forced his eyes open. There was soft light all around him, though not much more. His head ached and his throat was parched. 

“Wake up, Harry. We don’t have much time, love.” 

Harry didn’t recognize the voice, but the warm hand cupping his cheek was rather lovely, as was the face of the young woman filtering into his field of vision and smiling at him. 

“You did a brave, if somewhat stupid thing there,” a male voice added. “Reminded me of Padfoot for a second. Fitting, too, considering you were both facing off against Wormtail.” 

“Wha … Padfoot?” Harry turned his head, eyes widening as he took in the young man standing over him. It was _just_ like looking into the Mirror Of Erised. “D-dad?” 

“That’s me, in the metaphorical flesh,” the man replied and grinned. “Merlin, I’m sorry, you got the full brunt of the Potter genetics. Your hair is just as much a catastrophe as mine.” 

Harry stared at him. “People are always telling me how much I look like you.” 

Now it was James Potter’s turn to cradle Harry’s face in his hands. “Except for the eyes. Those are your mum’s through and through. I’m so very glad for it. I was afraid you’d grow out of them sooner or later.” 

It was a shock, meeting and talking to his parents all of a sudden, but not shocking enough to prevent Harry from fighting off the last of the pain and throwing himself around their necks in a desperate embrace. 

“Am I dead?” he gasped roughly into his mother’s hair. His dad’s hand was curling firmly around his shoulders, his mother’s arm winding around his waist and keeping him upright. “Can I stay with you?” 

“Oh, baby,” Lily sighed. “We need to talk - quickly. Don’t mind the lacklustre surroundings; we need your focus on what we have to say.” 

They loosened their embrace and sat back down, still holding hands. 

“You are indeed dead,” James said without prevarication. “Only not. Not really.” 

“Wha … how?” 

“There was something in you,” Lily said, smiling softly at Harry’s confusion. “The night Voldemort attacked you, a very old and obscure spell your father and I cast caused the killing curse to rebound, for a lack of a better word. It still hurt you and gave you your scar, but it hurt Voldemort more.” 

“It chipped off a piece of his soul as he died, unfortunately,” James continued. “And it managed to latch onto you since your magic was in a state of shock.” 

“I had a piece of Voldemort’s soul in my _head_?” Harry cried, slapping a hand to his forehead and digging his fingernails into the scar. “Get it out! Please! Now!” 

“It is out,” Lily said soothingly. “Look. There it is.” She pointed into the misty whiteness of the room and after a moment a shadowy bundle appeared somewhere in the distance. “Voldemort’s soul piece.” 

“You can look,” James encouraged Harry, who was frozen with shock and disgust. “It can’t hurt you anymore.” 

Harry really, really didn’t want to, but it seemed to be important to his parents. His _parents_ , who were _here_. 

“Alright,” he croaked. 

Arms around each other, they approached the bundle. From a couple of yards away, Harry discovered that the soul piece looked like an ugly, emaciated baby. It was whining and squirming but otherwise seemed to be insensible to its observers. 

“If I’m dead, sort of, is he too?” Harry asked, quickly retreating a few steps. “Please tell me it was worth it.” 

“It was definitely worth it,” Lily murmured. “No matter what, this soul piece will go with the reaper.” 

“But that brings us to an important fact.” James took Harry’s hands. “You’re only _sort of dead_ right now. If you want, you can go back. Explaining the magic involved would take too long, just know that giving the soul piece to Death absolves you of the need to die.” 

“This one time,” Lily interjected sternly. “You won’t get another chance to survive the killing curse, my love, so don’t try.” 

“No, mum,” Harry said, stunned. Suddenly his eyes became hot and itchy and wet. “ _Mum_.” 

She wrapped Harry in her slender arms and held him tightly. “I know, baby, I know. It’s so tempting to remain here, with us.” She kissed his forehead. “You could, you know. You deserve some rest and peace.” 

“You’d miss out on a lot, though,” James told him. “Life is meant to be experienced with all your senses, and it’s those experiences a soul takes with it to the afterlife. How else are we going to get any entertainment, if not through the stories our children and friends tell us?” 

“But it would be without you,” Harry sniffed, wiping the tears away. “That’d _suck_. I’ve already missed you, but now I’d miss you so much _more_.” 

“We miss you too,” James said, “and we will do so until the moment you join us for good. Although I’ll be honest, time passes differently for us than it does in the living world.” 

“How do you mean?” Harry finished drying his cheeks and soaked in the vision of his too-young parents. Truly, they barely looked older than Krum or Fleur, which made Harry’s head spin a little. 

“What are years and decades in the living world may pass in the blink of an eye for us,” James explained. “We still meet friends and do things, but it’s very different. The mortal experience is very physical; where living beings rely on sight and touch, sound, smell, and taste, we only have the flavour of the souls we meet … and our memories.” 

“It’s wonderful,” Lily promised, stroking Harry’s cheeks with her thumbs. “Very beautiful even, most of the time. But it’s not the same. We’re young enough to remember how it was to hold each other, to enjoy good food, to feel the elements on our skin, and to experience all the wonders the world has to offer. For some souls, this regret is so strong that they descend from this haven and rejoin the living world.” 

“They all come to regret it, eventually,” James sighed. “I do not recommend it.” 

“You mean ghosts,” Harry said, stunned. “No one ever talks about that. The Hogwarts ghosts seem cheerful enough, at any rate.” 

“They’re not yet old enough to truly yearn for Lady Magic’s embrace. It’s different for everyone, but being immortal in an existence that denies one all physical sensation seems like hell to me.” James shuddered. “Just imagine being bound to a place, able to communicate but not being part of anything. No, I’d much rather be here with our family and friends, even if that means being without you for a bit longer.” 

“Speaking of which, our time is getting short,” Lily reminded them. “So please decide which way you wish to go, Harry. On your answer hinges a lot.” 

Harry bit his lip. “I really want to stay with you.” 

“You will, eventually,” James assured him. “I swear on our family magic that we will meet again once your time in the living world ends.” 

Harry jumped when a strange warmth churned up inside of him, spreading out into his hands and feet and even his face. Next to him, both James and Lily began to glow from the inside out. 

“What was that?” he asked, staring at his parents. 

“A magical oath,” Lily said, nearly laughing at his confusion. “We will meet again, that’s not in question. You merely decide when that will be.” 

“You want me to go back, don’t you?” Harry asked after a moment in which he tried to follow the warmth through his body. 

“Hell yes,” James declared. “For many reasons.” 

“To annoy Snape?” Harry guessed. 

“Oh, Prongslet, that’s not even in the top ten of my list,” James said, though not without a hint of mischievous pride. “First of all, you left that other kid in the graveyard. As of now, he’s alone with Pettigrew and Voldemort. He could do with a helping hand. Then there’s the fact that Dumbledore allowed you to participate in this farce of a tournament even though he could’ve forced a redraw. I would see him taken down a peg or five; the old meddler deserves it.” 

“Then there’s your placement with my sister and her horrible husband,” Lily continued. While she didn’t look angry, her voice was cold. “I’ll be hanged if I allow _them_ to win. If nothing else, I need you to survive their abominable care and rub it in their face what a wonderful person you are, and what a magical life you’ll have.” 

“There’s also the matter of the Potter legacy,” James went on. “Unfortunately you are the very last of our line. If you die, our house does too, and that’d be just a shame. Connected to that are several injustices that I’m honestly burning to see rectified. First of them is Sirius. The poor dog just doesn’t deserve being treated like a penniless tramp. He’s lord of his house and even richer than us, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t have to camp out in caves and eat other people’s trash.” 

“James,” Lily admonished. “Although, as Sirius is a lord so are you. Or could be, if you managed to get to Gringotts.” 

“What?” Harry asked, slack-jawed. “Gringotts? What does that have to do with anything?” 

“The family vault is there, for one,” James said. “Our last will, too, for that matter. I can feel in your magical soul that it hasn’t been read. The family magic hasn’t touched you like it is supposed to, yet.” 

Lily took over, explaining how the goblins where the authority on inheritance issues. “It’s anchored in ancient magical law: the wizards dictate how the goblins conduct themselves in their realm, and to keep the balance the goblins oversee inheritance matters. This gives them a rather large political edge in wizarding affairs because they always know who is heir to what family.” 

Harry thought this over. “I don’t understand. How do they have an edge if wills can just stay unread?” 

“The goblins do not automatically read all the wills of wizards and witches,” James said. “Sometimes there actually is a good reason to keep a testament sealed. Mostly to keep young heirs safe from harm. And those reasons are determined by wizardkind, not the goblins.” 

“You think this happened with your will? Someone thought it’d be safer to keep it unread?” Harry asked dubiously. “Why? There was Sirius, he should’ve known what you wanted.” 

“You were the most famous baby in the magical _world_ for a while,” Lily said softly. “And the Potters are a very old, very wealthy family. Of course they sealed it, especially with Sirius already in prison. Maybe they even had good intentions in hiding it, and you, away. But it’s past time now to get the will unsealed because there are forces at work that will draw you and Voldemort together again and again until one of you is finally dead.” 

“If you choose to live out your mortal life, you’ll need to be able to fight. The way I see it, nothing much has been done to prepare you for that confrontation,” James added grimly. “To get trained up, you’ll need money, money that you can only access after meeting your account manager at Gringotts. Are you beginning to see a pattern yet?” 

“I …” Harry’s voice broke and he just stood there, thoughts racing. “I don’t think I want to fight Voldemort anymore.” He bit his lip hard enough to sting. “But.” 

A slow smile spread over James’ face. “But?” 

“But I’m angry,” Harry said on a gusty exhale. “Scratch that, I’m _furious_! Where do people get off not telling me about our family vault? No one’s really been telling me anything about you, or grandpa and grandma! And Sirius! He needed to _break out of Azkaban_ because people were incapable of giving him a fair trial! I could’ve been with him all this time! I could’ve had birthdays, and holidays and all the other stuff kids get to experience with their family. I want to kick _everyone’s_ arse! Seriously.” 

“Everyone needs their arse kicked,” James agreed. “Seriously.” 

“And some people’s parents do, too,” Lily said. She grabbed Harry’s hands and squeezed them. “Will you go back?” 

New tears were rolling down Harry’s cheeks, but he bravely said, “I guess I will.” 

“My brave boy, I knew it,” James murmured. He bent to kiss Harry’s forehead. “ _Thank you_.” 

“It’s nearly time to go back, so listen, my love,” Lily urged. “This is what you must do first: Capture Wormtail.” 

“Stun, transfigure, store,” James said. “No mercy, the rat needs to get what’s coming to him. Do you know how to transfigure a living being into a piece of wood, or similar?” 

“Well, not really, but I, uh, I think I can manage,” Harry stammered. His eyes were drying out from all the wide-eyed staring he was doing. His tears did nothing to help with that. 

“Don’t look so scandalized, it will hardly harm him if done decently,” Lily said a little tartly. “James, show him.” 

From nowhere, Harry’s father whipped out a wand and demonstrated the wand movement and the incantation. After half a dozen attempts, Harry felt confident that he wouldn’t kill Pettigrew in the process. Probably. 

“Now, once Wormtail is dealt with, you absolutely _must_ destroy the Voldemort in that graveyard. Chances are that he’s next to helpless in his current form,” Lily continued. “Use a summoning charm from a safe distance to get his wand first and snap it. Then destroy him with the reductor curse.” 

“Afterwards, clean the site,” James said. “Evanesco the _shite_ out of that place, and while you’re at it? Evanesco Voldemort’s father’s bones as well, because it’s the sort of thing arseholes like that so-called Dark Lord would use to resurrect themselves. It’s all about the connections, you see, and the less connection he has to the living world, the better you’ll be able to defeat him.” 

“And then?” Harry asked, trembling. He could scarcely believe that his parents actually expected him to stun and maim grown-up people, even if they deserved it. 

“Then you’ll get your backside to Gringotts without delay and demand that our will finally be read. They cannot refuse you; due to your participation in the tournament you’ve been granted adult status in the wizarding world,” James said bluntly. “They still might try to prevent this. In that case demand the Potter family lawyer, they cannot refuse you his counsel. In fact, the magic of the bank will alert the lawyer by itself once his name is spoken out loud by a client on retainer.” 

“Okay, that sounds easy enough. Who is this lawyer?” Harry asked. 

“His name is Wymark Finch,” James replied. Seeing how lost Harry was, he gently said, “I know that we’re asking a lot, but you can do it.” 

“It’ll be terrible for a bit,” Lily agreed compassionately. “You weren’t trained for this. To survive, you’ll have to do this, though, or you’ll be back here sooner than any of us want. We love you, but we want you to have a long and rich life. Do not throw it away, baby. Promise us.” 

“Mum,” Harry choked. “I’m scared.” 

“Me too,” Lily said, just as wobbly. She peppered Harry’s face with kisses. “You _can_ do it. We believe in you. You’ll make a fantastic Lord Potter.” 

Harry’s heart ached as his parents’ forms grew a bit hazy. “No, not yet!” 

His father joined the embrace and held him firmly. “We’ll see each other again. See it through, Prongslet. Pettigrew, Voldemort, Gringotts, Sirius. Then punish the rest of the morons for their stupidity. That should be enough to keep you busy until you kick the bucket, huh?” 

Despite himself, Harry laughed. “I guess so.” 

“Oh, and Harry?” 

“Yeah?” Harry fought hard against the horrible sensation of his parents’ solid flesh slowly dissolving in his iron grip. 

“That basilisk you killed two years ago? That’s worth _a lot_ of gold. Since you killed it, it’s yours to do with as you please, and we Potters have never eschewed a good deal. Make me proud, son.” 

As Harry stared at his father’s grinning, withering face, the strangest feeling of confidence and determination was rising in his chest. “I will, dad.” 

Then both his mother and father were kissing his face as if he were still a toddler, all unashamed love and longing, and they held him until the last wisp of their presence had faded. 

Then, Harry fell back into darkness, only to wake up in the graveyard, a frantic Cedric Diggory shaking his shoulder. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, I laughed a lot when I wrote this, so I hope you'll find it amusing, too. :)

**Chapter 2**

“Harry!” Cedric cried, rearing back at Harry’s sudden, if ineffectual, slap at his hand. “Oh my god, you’re alive!” 

Groaning, Harry forced himself to sit up and assess the damage. His face hurt were shards of the breaking gravestone had hit him, and his limbs were a little lethargic. He tried not to think too much about how close he’d come to dying yet again. At least it wasn’t as painful as being bitten by a basilisk. 

Seeing that Harry was finally tracking, Cedric hissed, “I stunned the man, Pettigrew. But what now? No, don't move yet, you've got blood all over your face. Gosh, your scar. That looks nasty.” 

Harry squirmed away from Cedric but allowed the boy to cast a basic healing charm at him to stop the scar from bleeding into his eyes.

“Wormtail?” Voldemort’s cold voice yelled. “What happened to Nagini!” 

“Help me up,” Harry muttered, inwardly rejoicing when the other boy nearly jumped to do so. Together they shuffled over to Pettigrews downed, face-planted body. “Er, maybe you’d better look away for a minute.” 

“What?” Cedric asked. “Why?” 

Harry opened his mouth, floundered for words, and decided to just do what his parents had told him to do. With a sharp mutter, he jabbed his wand at Pettigrew and transfigured the rat into a large piece of wood. “Hey, it worked!” 

“Whow-ow-ow,” Cedric exclaimed, backing away with both hands raised. “What was _that_? How did you … that’s not ...”

“I’m good at learning spells,” Harry said dismissively. He turned around, searching. There it was, Voldemort’s little campfire. “Accio Voldemort and Pettigrew’s wands!” 

Cedric’s eyes bulged like he couldn’t believe Harry’s audacity. They bulged even worse when there actually were two wands shooting through the night air. 

“What?” he hissed. “ _How_? There are spells to prevent that kind of thing!” 

“Seems like they both didn’t think they’d need it,” Harry retorted and promptly snapped the wands over his knee with relish. “There, that’s one stupid brother wand less to worry about.” He shoved the pieces in his back pocket and picked up the transfigured Wormtail. One shrinking charm later and Pettigrew joined the broken wands. 

“I … you …” Cedric had a hard time closing his mouth again. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s busywork.” Harry smirked, beginning to enjoy this horror show, now that the tables had significantly turned. “You game doing away with Voldemort?” 

That managed to bring Cedric out of his stupor. “Of course!” A lot less enthusiastic, he asked, “But how?” 

“Well, he’s probably unarmed now,” Harry replied, “but we’d better not take any chances. _Accio_ Voldemort’s weapons!” 

They waited for a tense minute. Only a dirty dagger soared over and Harry made it disappear with a simple vanishing charm. 

“Seems like the coast is clear,” he said to Cedric. “Although … did I imagine it or did you really hit something back there?” 

“I think I did, yeah.” Cedric finally got his bearings. “Accio whatever I killed!” 

Both jumped back when the huge, nearly bisected body of a snake hurtled towards them. Its maw was wide open, showing off razor-sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue. 

“I guess that’s the elusive Nagini Voldemort was screaming for,” Harry said dryly. With perhaps more force than necessary, he transfigured and shrunk the snake too and stuffed it into his pocket. “Great hit, Cedric!” 

“T-thank you,” the teen stuttered, visibly discomfited. “About Voldemort …” 

“What about him?” Harry asked and began walking. 

“What are we going to do with him?” Cedric clarified. “Are we really going to kill him?” 

“Sort of.” Harry cautiously slowed his step once the firelight was visible without obstruction. “Can you do your conjuring thing? I want to see whether he’s put up traps.” 

Gobsmacked, Cedric stared at him again. “Right. After that maze, I should’ve thought about that.” 

He sent out three conjured dogs and had them bound towards the fire from three different directions. 

Nothing happened. 

“I feel sort of cheated,” Harry muttered after the last dog had disappeared. He was a bit disappointed that it hadn’t peed on the yelling Voldemort, but he figured that he shouldn’t expect too much from a conjured animal. Both he and Cedric nevertheless kept looking around for any suddenly appearing Death Eaters. 

“I know what you mean,” Cedric agreed. 

They finally reached the clearing and gawked. There, in the fire, stood a humongous black kettle. Inside, a thick liquid was simmering merrily, the occasional bubble coming up and popping slickly. Other than that, only a very few belongings were strewn about, most of which seemed to belong to Pettigrew. 

“Potter!” Voldemort cried from a nest of blankets, furiously waving around thin arms. He looked almost like his soul shard had in the beyond, like a gaunt, pale, horrendously ugly baby with red eyes and mere slits for a nose. “How is it that you always ruin my plots!” 

“It’s your own damn fault you’re in this situation,” Harry snapped. He raised his wand even as he swallowed down his revulsion. “If you’d kept your non-existent nose out of other people’s business, none of this would’ve happened.” 

“Where’s Wormtail!” Voldemort demanded. “Where’s Nagini? What have you done?” 

“My friend killed your snake. He didn’t take too kindly to being called a _spare_ ,” Harry told him. Next to him, Cedric was shaking in his boots. “As to you … I’ll do that myself.” 

“You, kill me? In cold blood?” The baby, which had to be some sort of construct, laughed shrilly. 

Harry snorted. “He acts like I haven’t killed him a couple of times already. What a bluffer.” 

Cedric’s wide-eyed stare went from Voldemort to Harry. “What?” 

“Quirrel,” Harry said shortly. “Was possessed by Voldemort. He tried to kill me at the end of my first year, I touched him, and he burned to death. I learned later that some sort of magical protection kept Voldemort away from me.” 

“Right. And the second time?” Cedric questioned, voice faint. 

Voldemort had stopped laughing and glared at Harry. “You lie. You might have bested Quirrel, but we haven’t clashed since then.” 

“Yes, we did,” Harry retorted. “Chamber of secrets, ring any bells? I killed that huge basilisk diary-you set on half a dozen muggleborn students.” 

“Diary-me?” Voldemort looked so unpleasantly surprised that Harry half expected his head to roll off his tiny shoulders from his angry jerk. “Impossible!” 

“You should ask Lucius Malfoy about that if you don’t believe me,” Harry said, “but not tonight. I’ve got things to do.” 

And before either Voldemort or Cedric could ask any more questions, Harry sent a reductor curse point-blank at the ugly creature and blew it to smithereens. 

This had the unfortunate consequence of whirling _stuff_ up and about, the worst of which was a whole, tiny spindly arm. 

“Yuck, Harry!” Cedric complained, slapping it away. Almost echoing his shout, a sharp wail rolled through the graveyard, though it faded quickly as the dust settled. 

“Sorry.” Sheepishly, Harry lowered his wand. “It’s just … mortal enemy and all that rot. I might’ve gotten carried away for a bit. Um, accio Voldemort’s body parts.” 

The spell diligently collected every speck of Voldemort’s disintegrated body and Harry directed the small cloud of decidedly non-human debris into the bubbling cauldron. Following that, he summoned Voldemort’s father’s bones like James had told him and threw them in as well, and then, just because Harry could, did the same to all of Voldemort and Wormtail’s belongings. 

“You know,” Cedric said thoughtfully as they stood staring at the simmering mess, “I’m almost tempted to find out what would happen if we completed the ritual.” 

“You mean for science?” Harry asked and couldn’t help but snicker at the insanity of it all. 

“Something like that.” 

“We threw Pettigrew’s notes in with the rest,” Harry told him regretfully. “But maybe next time.” 

Cedric started laughing, loud and surprised and a touch hysterical. “Hell, yes, next time.” He turned to Harry, eyes shining. “You’re something else, you know that?” 

“Thanks. You’re pretty awesome, too.” Harry grinned up at Cedric. “Do you want to do the honours and vanish all of this?” 

Cedric raised his wand, only to stop himself. “Shouldn’t we let people know what happened? I mean, Voldemort nearly killed us both, and who knows what he wanted to do with this potion.” 

Harry scoffed. “Do you honestly think anyone would believe us? Fudge is a complete doorknob, and Bagman’s a greedy moron. Plus, Skeeter. She told everyone I was a nutter since this shitty tournament started, so I really don’t expect any help from that corner.” 

“But we have proof,” Cedric argued and pointed at the cauldron. 

“I saw Pettigrew alive and well last year, just like Ron and Hermione, and Fudge had nothing better to do than bring a dementor _into_ Hogwarts to have my godfather kissed,” Harry snapped. “I do _not_ trust that utter cockwomble. With anything! If you don’t want to vanish this mess, that’s fine. I’ll do it.” 

“No, Harry, wait.” Cedric sighed and rubbed his dirty face with both hands. “You’re right. My dad’s always going on about what an arse Fudge is, and Bagman apparently has a slight gambling problem. And Skeeter _was_ a mean cow to you and Hermione, so … I get it. Still, just vanishing all of this won’t warn the people, will it? We should warn them! That was _Voldemort_!” 

“What for?” Harry asked, giving up his hostile stance. “Voldemort’s gone, at least for now. Whatever creepy thing he was, it’s dead. If he’s got other maggot-babies lying around, he can try again, but he wouldn’t have told us where to find them anyway, would he?” 

Cedric reluctantly shook his head. “Probably not.” 

“I mean, you’re a Hufflepuff, so torture would’ve been out for you, anyway.” 

“Harry,” Cedric huffed. “I was mean to you, too. I know how to hold a grudge.” 

Harry just raised an eyebrow at that dumb proclamation. 

Cedric sighed. “Fine. I couldn’t have tortured him. It. And I’m glad you killed him. Again. I probably couldn’t have done that, either.” 

“There you go,” Harry said and patted the other teen’s arm. 

“But what will we tell everyone when we get back to Hogwarts?” Cedric asked. 

“Ah.” 

Cedric paused. “Harry?” 

“I, uh, have stuff to do,” Harry said, praying that Cedric wouldn’t make him fight him. “In London.” 

“What _stuff_?” Cedric asked, alarmed. “Can’t it wait?” 

“It can’t, no.” Harry gestured vaguely at his back pocket. “It’s family stuff, sort of. Pettigrew will prove that my godfather’s innocent, and since the muggles I live with hate me, I’d really like to get him cleared.” 

“The muggles you live with hate you?” Cedric parroted. “ _Why_?” 

“They hate magic, and therefore me,” Harry said shortly. “Once I’m back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore won’t let me go anywhere alone, not to mention Fudge’s hate-on for Sirius. This is my only chance to do something about, well, everything.” 

“Fuck.” Cedric turned away and raked a hand through his somewhat dusty hair. “Harry, what the fuck.” 

“My life’s not all sunshine and roses,” Harry insisted. “I need to do this. Can you _please_ look the other way?” 

It took a long minute for Cedric to think about it, but then he surprised Harry by saying, “You just killed Voldemort. Sure, I helped, but the fact is that you saved my life today twice over.” 

“What? No. I just blocked Pettigrew’s killing curse,” Harry protested. “And you saved me from Pettigrew, or did you forget?” 

“No, I did that, but he wasn’t out to kill _you_. Also, you threw yourself in front of me, that definitely counts. ” Cedric agreed. “So that’s once. The second time is death by Voldemort or his minions. Because sooner or later he _would_ have sent out a hit team to eliminate my father because he’s as light as they come. They wouldn’t hesitate to do me in, either, just to hurt him before they killed him.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

Cedric smirked sadly. “I’m pretty certain that I can because there already was an attempt before you defeated him as a baby. So, to honour the life debt between us, I’ll not only help you escape, but I’ll also swear to keep your secret and help you as you go along. I can’t do much at Hogwarts, but school will be out tomorrow. If you need me then, I’ll do what I can.” 

Harry felt breathless with hope. “Truly?” 

“It’s the least I can do,” Cedric replied. “If your home life is as crappy as you said, you need to be away from there. I honestly don’t need to know much more than that, although now that you’ve said it I do notice some things.” He swallowed. “I feel bad about not noticing sooner, I’m sorry. You deserve a break, Harry.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry muttered, embarrassed. 

“It is!” Cedric insisted. “Else you wouldn’t do this, now would you? So, do you accept?” 

Eager to change the topic and just glad that he’d found an accomplice, Harry took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “I do. Thank you, Cedric. I appreciate it.” 

“ _I_ thank _you_ , Harry.” Cedric smiled crookedly. “Now, shall we vanish this monstrosity? The smell is getting a tad acrid.” 

“Yeah, what will the neighbours say?” Harry quipped and relished in Cedric’s surprised giggle. 

They counted down and hit the cauldron at the same time with the vanishing spell. In a blink, everything was gone. 

“Crime must be a bitch to solve in the magical world,” Harry stated. Slowly, he and Cedric went around and obscured the traces Voldemort and Pettigrew’s presence had left. “We just _vanished_ a shit load of evidence, and you better believe that I’ll hit myself with a dozen cleaning charms afterwards. In a minute, we’ll repair the gravestones and plants that got destroyed, and then we’ll be gone without a trace, too.” 

“About that. I’ve got an idea,” Cedric said. He put an arm around Harry’s shoulders and tugged him along to their landing site. “Why don’t I call the Knight Bus and make a detour to London to celebrate my win?” 

“Sounds good,” Harry said, “but what do I do?” 

“You, my ruthless friend, will disillusion yourself and come with me, of course,” Cedric replied. “No one will be the wiser; if anyone asks about you, I’ll just say that I lost you in transit. It happens with portkeys. Ugly business, that. They might even think you died upon landing. That should keep them busy for a while.” 

“There’s a criminal mastermind hiding behind the friendly Hufflepuff facade!” Harry accused admiringly. They reached the blasted gravestone. In the light of their lumos charm, the fallen Goblet of Fire was quickly located. “Ugh, there it is.” 

“I’m thinking that it will take us back to Hogwarts as soon as we touch it,” Cedric mused. He tilted his head. “Can I be honest with you?” 

“If anyone can, it’s you,” Harry told him. “Why?” 

“That thing over there is a priceless artefact, right?” Cedric said and grimaced at Harry’s reluctant nod. “Well, it’s a priceless death trap, if you ask me.” 

“Are you thinking about vanishing it?” Harry asked, smirking. “Because if that’s the case, I’m more than willing to be your partner in crime.” 

“I’m seriously considering it, but no.” Cedric sighed. “They’d question me, probably under the influence of veritaserum, and find out. It’s better I take it along and use it later, once you’ve reached London. You don’t happen to carry a mokeskin bag, do you?” 

“No, sorry. But we could transfigure it into something else,” Harry offered. “Just another cup should do it, right? Or will a portkey stay a portkey?” 

“I honestly don’t know,” Cedric admitted. “We haven’t covered that in class. I’d rather not test it.” 

“It’s no matter. We can just conjure a shawl or something, wrap it up and shrink it. That should disable the transport-at-touch magic, yeah?” 

“... you’re an awfully practical thinker,” Cedric said slowly. “It’s a bit scary, to be perfectly honest.” 

“You try being friends with Hermione and not picking up a thing or seven,” Harry retorted. “Um, you’re much better at conjuring things, so would you … ?” 

Cedric shook himself. “Right.” 

In short order, Cedric had levitated the goblet onto the conjured shawl. Just to be sure he used a stick, not his wand, to flip the fabric over the goblet. When the portkey didn’t activate, he felt confident enough to touch the fabric and tie it up tightly. With another swish and flick of his wand, the package shrunk down to matchbox size. It fit perfectly into Cedric’s trouser pocket, which was, upon reflection, all kinds of terrible, Harry thought. 

Afterwards, they spent a few more minutes repairing the graveyard and collecting their skin cells and hairs - Harry insisted, after having watched quite a few crime shows on the telly with Mrs Figg - before finally getting around to the cleaning and healing charms. Losing the Voldemort dust was a huge relief to them both and Harry was so glad to get rid of the blood on his face that he could have cried. 

At last, it was time to leave the scene. A quick tempus charm told them that barely an hour had passed since their disappearance from Hogwarts. To Harry, it felt like a lifetime. 

About half a mile from the graveyard, Cedric stopped Harry. 

“So this is it,” he said. “I have no idea why no one has come to investigate the area for heavy magic use, but I’ll take it. Quick, use a few more aggressive spells. Expelliarmus, bombarda, whatever seems fitting for that bloody maze. Should they pick you up, all those vanishing and cleaning spells _will_ seem suspicious.” 

“Ooh, right, clearing the wand,” Harry said. Quickly he did so. “I, er, have an invisibility cloak at Hogwarts, so I never learned how to disillusion myself.” 

“That’s a sixth-year spell anyway,” Cedric replied. “I’ll do it for you, as I said. I’m pretty good at it, too. You should remain behind me when we board the bus anyway, just to be sure.” 

“Okay.” Harry straightened in expectation of the spell being cast at him. 

Cedric, however, hesitated. “Say … what will happen with your things at Hogwarts? You’ll need them, but if I’m to keep mum about this, there’s no way to get them for you.” 

“Oh! You’re right, that’s a problem.” Harry chewed on his lip and felt like slapping himself once he realized that he had the perfect ally at Hogwarts. “Nevermind, I have an idea. Leave it to me.” 

“If you’re sure.” Cedric raised his wand, only to interrupt himself again. “Wait. I can’t just disillusion you. What if the spell fails? People would recognize you instantly. No, we need to disguise you first.” 

Harry squeaked when Cedric hit him with half a dozen spells nearly at once. Magic washed over him, lengthening his hair and changing its colour to a washed-out brunette. 

“Your eyes are brown, now, and I made your face longer and your skin tone darker. My episkey healed your scar nicely, it’s barely visible,” Cedric explained. “You also look a little older. So, just in case they notice a blind passenger and ask what you’re up to, just tell them that you were blown away by the gryffin. That’s slang for having trouble at home with the wife or girlfriend. Should stop the questions. Have you got money?” 

Harry did; it was his lucky galleon in his frayed trainer. He took it out and handed it over to Cedric. “I suppose that’s enough? Last time I paid eleven sickles.” 

“More than. Alright, let’s disillusion you ...” 

Cedric cast the spell and on the upswing waved for the Knight Bus. 

With a crack, the purple monstrosity landed right in front of them on the quiet path. 

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, I’m Stan Shunpike, your conductor,” the pimply young man Harry had met almost two years ago said in a bored voice. “Where to, sir?” 

“London, Diagon Alley,” Cedric said and smiled affably. 

“That’ll be seven sickles,” Shunpike said. He took the galleon and handed Cedric his change. When Harry tried to slip in behind him, a siren started to wail and Shunpike suddenly became alive. “Wow, what’s that? Someone’s trying to stowaway!” 

Harry cursed under his breath, even as he shook off the disillusion. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he rasped, trying to change his voice enough that Stan wouldn’t recognize him. “Got blown away by the gryffin, left me money at home.” 

Shunpike’s suspicious face relaxed immediately and he grinned. “Merlin, gov’nor, we’re discreet as can be, right, Ern? Come on in, get comfy. Get a drink in London for me, ‘cause I know a thing or two about _that_.” 

With a rueful grin, Cedric pretended to help out a fellow brow-beaten sod and paid the fare for Harry. Their butts hadn’t even touched their seats when the Knight Bus shuddered and sped off with a bang. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

The drive with the Knight Bus was thankfully over quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid a conversation with the other passengers, all of whom had recognized Cedric. 

“Some mishap with the portkey,” Cedric laughingly explained his unexpected and unusual method of travelling, playing the small crowd like a fiddle. Asked about his surly companion, he said that they’d met at the butt end of nowhere and decided to travel to London together, just so the poor guy would have someone to complain to. 

“I’m glad you won,” a handsome witch in her thirties purred. “Harry Potter did well enough, I suppose, but it was a huge embarrassment for the Ministry when they couldn’t even manage to stick to the age restriction. Of the actual champions, _you_ were my favourite, hun.” 

“Er, thank you,” Cedric replied, flushing a little when she smiled widely. “Anyway, since I was already out of Hogwarts, I decided to get a celebratory drink at the Leaky Cauldron … any of you interested in joining me? I’m sure I can put it on the tab, I’ve won a thousand galleons, after all.” 

The whole bus cheered, even Ernie and Stan, and Harry mentally thanked Cedric fiercely for his outstanding people skills. It briefly crossed his mind how upset Ron would be to know that Cedric had publicly claimed the prize money, but Harry shoved that thought away quickly. This wasn’t about Ron, after all. Cedric had more than earned that money with sweat, terror, and an astounding amount of willingness to go with Harry’s decisions. 

_He’d better not try and offer me half of it later_ , Harry thought. He slowly melted away from the cheery group until he sat in a chair by the rear window. Here, he could breathe again without feeling like his insides were twisting themselves up. _Only a few more minutes now_. 

Cedric entertained the whole bus until they came to a stop right on the footpath in front of the muggle-side entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry once again marvelled at just how unobservant non-magicals were; they just marched around the bus without care and went on their merry way. 

“After me!” Cedric called. “All in favour of fire whisky say aye!” 

A dozen voices cried, “Aye!”, and everyone left the bus in a hurry, no matter what destination they’d originally had. Stan and Ernie abandoned the bus, not even bothering to lock it up, and followed Cedric inside the pub. 

Harry was the last to follow, squeezing around the raucous group and slinking out into the pub’s tiny backyard. He was jittery and exhausted all at once and nearly botched the sequence of taps with his wand against the secret entrance to Diagon Alley. 

Once he’d made it through, the enormity of his decision hit him. 

He had left Hogwarts. 

Worse, he fully expected to not return, not with Sirius hopefully free and willing and able to take care of him. 

“Hey, don’t stand around like an idiot,” a fat wizard with a huge moustache in a brown, flowing robe snapped. He looked like a remarkably ill-tempered monk. “Some people have things to do, even if you don’t. Merlin, I hate bums.” 

The similarity to Vernon Dursley was so startling and unpleasant that Harry almost fled to Gringotts in self-defence. 

_It’s now or never_ , he thought. _I need to do this before they find me._

The guards at the door let him enter without issue, and no one spared him a second glance as he shuffled over to the shortest waiting line. 

Standing there for five minutes with only his jumbled thoughts for company was torture. The transfigured Pettigrew and Nagini, not to mention the broken wand pieces, were burning a hole in Harry’s back pocket. Sweat was slowly trickling down his back and beading on his forehead and upper lip. 

Finally, it was his turn. 

“Name your business,” the goblin snarled, staring at Harry. 

“I am Harry James Potter. I wish to have the Potter will read,” Harry said quietly and as firmly as he could. 

“Gringotts cannot accommodate that request,” the goblin replied. “Next!” 

Fury boiled up in Harry so hard and fast that it made him dizzy. He hadn’t nearly died just to be dismissed like this! 

“Oh no, Mister, you won’t get rid of me that easily,” he snapped. “I demand the counsel of my family lawyer, Mr Wymark Finch, and I’ll see the Potter account manager. _Thank you_.” 

The goblin reared back and hissed something in its native language. “Fine, have it your way, wizard. Go over there, someone will collect you and accompany you to a senior handler.” 

Harry nearly drew his wand to stun the unpleasant prick. “Not _a_ senior handler, _my_ senior handler. Or do I have to make a scene?” 

“Fine. _Your_ senior handler,” the goblin snarled. “Next!” 

Vindicated, Harry stepped to the far side of the hall. This time he only had to wait for less than a minute until a goblin appeared and led him through a small, ornate door. 

“This is senior manager Ripthroat’s office. He is the Potter account manager. You will behave, wizard,” the goblin growled. He tipped his hat. “Have a good evening.” 

“Yeah … you too,” Harry answered with narrowed eyes. 

At his knock, the heavy door with golden hinges and fittings opened by itself. 

“Enter, Mr Potter,” a deep voice called. 

Harry did so and stopped at the sight of a large, broad goblin in a pinstripe suit. An honest to god _suit_ , not a robe. 

“Please have a seat, and excuse the abrupt manners of our teller. He is not privy to the details concerning your estate and merely wished to protect me from yet more work.” Ripthroat showed his sharp, pointy teeth as he smiled. “Now, you called for your family lawyer Mr Finch. Well done, you will need him. He will arrive shortly, but in the meantime, I’d like to know what brought you here. The term hasn’t ended yet, as far as Gringotts knows.” 

“It won’t end until tomorrow, although that’s kind of splitting hairs in my case, isn’t it?” Harry confirmed. “Er, I’d rather wait for Mr Finch, if that’s alright with you. In case I’d be, er, incriminating myself.” 

“Oh?” Ripthroat’s bushy eyebrows rose high on his forehead. 

Remembering what his father had said about the basilisk, Harry quickly decided to stave off the goblin’s curiosity and offered, “But we can talk about a deal if you’d like.” 

“Will it be good?” Ripthroat asked. 

“If my source can be believed, one of the best,” Harry returned. 

Intrigued now, the goblin leaned a little forward. “Then do tell, Mr Potter.” 

And so Harry told Ripthroat about his altercation with the basilisk in his second year, finishing with, “When Ginny and I left the chamber, the thing was in pretty good condition, all things considered. I didn’t even make a dent in it when I hit it with my sword. It might have gone a bit to seed this last year, though.” 

Ripthroat stared at Harry. “Unlikely, Mr Potter, very unlikely. How come Dumbledore has not claimed the kill as his? Why has the world not even heard about this feat?” 

“Well, he can’t enter the chamber without me, and he hasn’t asked yet,” Harry answered with a shrug. “Maybe he doesn’t want it? Or the press? They did keep it all rather hushed up.” 

“Well, it is highly unlikely that Dumbledore wouldn’t want the money,” Ripthroat said dryly. “No, he must fear the press, and rightly so. Now, let’s assume that the basilisk is indeed as old and as big as you say and only minimally damaged besides.” 

Harry nodded. 

“In this case, the carcass might be worth a million galleons and quite possibly a lot more. A basilisk is such a magical creature that every little part of it can be used. Potions, clothing, talismans, fertilizer for special plants, even for food.” Ripthroat cleared his throat. “I will not lie, Mr Potter, I would love to make that deal with you. But in the interest of fostering a mutually beneficial alliance between us, we’ll await Mr Finch’s arrival. Would you care for a cup of tea?” 

“God, yes,” Harry exclaimed and flushed at the goblin’s rough chuckle. 

They were on their second cup and halfway through a platter of finger sandwiches when Harry’s lawyer arrived. He was a short, middle-aged man with receding hair and piercing, blue eyes. Despite his unremarkable height and appearance, he carried himself with the self-assurance of someone who knew how to win their battles and win them with little to no damage to themselves. 

Harry stood and shook the man’s hand. “Good evening, Mr Finch. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming so quickly and sorry if I disturbed your plans for the evening.” 

“Likewise, Mr Potter. Please don’t concern yourself about inconveniencing me; you wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. Besides, your parents ensured that my services would be available to you whenever you require them.” After a short greeting to Ripthroat, Mr Finch claimed the second seat in front of the goblin’s huge desk and asked, “Now, how may I help?” 

“I need to get my parents’ testament read,” Harry said, heart in his throat. “And then I need your help with something else. Also, I probably need a vow that all of this stays confidential.” 

Mr Finch’s eyes lit up with interest. “Gladly. Let’s get the vow done first. I’m sure Ripthroat will pledge his own oath; he’s too curious by half not to.” 

“Unfortunately true,” the goblin grumped. 

Harry gratefully observed the speaking of the confidentiality vows and then spent a long half-hour recapping his year and describing what had happened after his and Cedric’s abduction from Hogwarts. He also showed them the evidence he’d taken, although he begged off of reversing the transfiguration on Peter Pettigrew until something had been worked out to help Sirius. 

When he was done, Mr Finch and Ripthroat took their eyes from Nagini’s corpse and the two snapped wands and stared at each other silently for several moments. 

“I am afraid that this information will cost me my head,” Ripthroat eventually offered roughly. “The matter of the one that calls himself Lord Voldemort is of the highest interest to my king, Ragnok. It is the law that I bring forth all information I can obtain. This law supersedes any personal vows I can give.” 

“Uhm, wow. That’s harsh.” Harry goggled at the goblin. 

“That’s the price I have to pay for my curiosity,” Ripthroat rumbled. “Unless we can work something out.” 

“Can we do that?” Harry asked anxiously. “I didn’t mean to kill you, sir.” 

“And I do not wish to die today,” Ripthroat returned evenly. “It would please me if you’d allow me to amend my oath to you to include my king. I will, of course, alert him to the necessity of rewarding your complaisance.”

Harry turned to Mr Finch. “Do you think I should do that?” 

The lawyer smiled briefly. “It should happen under the proviso that King Ragnok won’t act without consulting you first, since this matter concerns you and Lord Black first and foremost. But it never hurts to have Gringotts owe you a favour and I’m sure that we can work something out for our mutual benefit.” 

“Is that alright with you, Mr Ripthroat?” Harry asked the goblin. “I really want my godfather away from the dementors. And the Ministry, too. Fudge is a bleeding idiot.” 

Ripthroat snorted out a guttural laugh. “That he is, Mr Potter.” After obtaining Harry’s clear consent for the re-casting of the oath, he waved his long, clawed fingers, and made a new one. “Oh, that feels much better. Thank you again, Mr Potter. I will alert my king to this meeting now. You’ll have to tell your story again but I promise that it’ll be worth it.”

“I, er, have something to sweeten the deal,” Harry said hesitantly. “In case you didn’t know, Voldemort’s name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

“Gringotts did not know that, no,” Ripthroat said. 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. He told me himself in my second year at Hogwarts. I don’t know if that’s even useful, but, well. I want him gone as much as the next person.” 

“That name doesn’t ring any bells,” Mr Finch said thoughtfully, “which has its own connotations, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Ripthroat agreed. “Riddle likely wasn’t from a pureblood family; those peacocks like to be known to their lesser fellow countrymen. Excuse me while I go see my king. If you require refreshments, just ring the bell on my desk.” 

Harry watched as the goblin left. “Wow. I didn’t expect this to be so important to Gringotts.” 

Mr Finch’s lips twitched. “You-know-who was declared an enemy of the Horde after his fall in 1981. King Ragnok has been looking for information on how to defeat him ever since. Unlike our people, goblins do not believe in letting a child fight their battles. I believe you’ll find them able allies in your fight against You-know-who.” 

“Why aren’t you using his name?” Harry asked with a grimace. “It’s not even all that scary.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Mr Finch agreed. “However, before his fall You-know-who put a taboo on his name. Only his enemies would speak it and therefore he used the taboo to find the hiding places of his adversaries. He killed many of them until people wised up. His name has been feared ever since, his defeat notwithstanding, and I’ve taken to using the alternative to make my clients more comfortable.” 

Harry processed this and came up more confused than before. “Why hasn’t Voldemort put a taboo on _You-know-who_ as well? His followers call him the Dark Lord, don’t they?” 

Mr Finch’s faint smile grew more pronounced. “Ah, that’s a very good question. I imagine that he simply didn’t get around to that. He placed the taboo half a year or so before he attacked your family at Godric’s Hollow. That’s enough to strike terror in the hearts of people, but not quite enough for him to have caught on to that new moniker. Placing a taboo is magically expensive, you see.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Deflated, Harry gulped down his cold tea. “He must’ve been a right terror back then.” 

“He was,” Mr Finch admitted. “His army wasn’t large, at least that’s how it seemed to me, but he knew just where to strike. He crippled many ancient and noble houses, even wiped out a few of them. That you survived when many others didn’t was such a blinding silver line on a very dark horizon that people lost their heads when it comes to you. They still do, which is deeply unfortunate.” 

“People like Rita Skeeter aren’t helping,” Harry groused. “I wish someone would do something about her.” 

Mr Finch opened his briefcase and pulled out a notebook. “That can be arranged.” He made a few notes. “But I’m assuming that getting Lord Black cleared of all charges is your priority.” 

Harry’s heart skipped a beat with hope. “Yes, absolutely.” 

“Having Mr Pettigrew in your custody is quite an advantage, although we have to make sure that the Ministry won’t get their hands on him. It is no secret that the Black case is an embarrassment to Minister Fudge.” 

“What about my emancipation?” Harry asked. “My pa-someone told me that making me participate in the Triwizard Tournament automatically made me an adult.” 

“Is that so?” Mr Finch’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Well, normally people take care to avoid things like this. Were you given a ministerial writ to support your statement?” 

Harry shook his head no. “Neither did I get one saying it isn’t so. I mean, they should’ve made that clear, shouldn’t they?” 

“You’re a quick one,” Mr Finch stated approvingly. “Yes, since this tournament is so dangerous, a breach of the rules of this magnitude should’ve been followed up by legal action. That you haven’t received any statement at all concerning your participation is a gross oversight, but one in your favour. Even if your magical guardian received it, he should have made you aware of it. In such a case the best possible assumption about your circumstances will be accepted as intended. The correct legal term for this is _optime maxime exitus_. It’s not your fault that the Ministry failed to protect you from the forced participation and then didn’t even deign to inform you of the particulars. The magical contract for the tournament quite clearly states that only those of age may participate, that doesn’t leave them any wiggle room. Therefore, you must be considered an adult in the eye of the law.” 

“So I _really_ am an adult now?” Harry asked excitedly. “I can visit my parents’ vault and find out more about my family?” 

“Gringotts will research the matter to confirm the assumption but that will be done in a matter of hours. Once they have confirmed your status in society, everything your family owns will be yours to do with as you please.” There was a gleam in Mr Finch’s eyes. “I’m quite looking forward to the brouhaha this will cause in the Ministry. We haven’t had a good scandal in years … though not for lack of trying.” 

“Will me being an adult help Sirius?” 

Mr Finch nodded curtly. “Yes, definitely. You being an adult will turn the tides quite nicely. It’ll mean that you performed a perfectly legal citizen’s arrest on Mr Pettigrew. Under the old family laws, the Ministry cannot force you to hand over a prisoner that directly did your family grievous harm. Mr Pettigrew did that twice over if I’m informed correctly.” 

“He did. He betrayed my parents to Voldemort, and you know what he tried to do in that graveyard. I’m of a mind to let that rat rot in a small cage,” Harry huffed. “At least until Sirius is free. I don’t care what happens to him after that.” 

“It’ll be a privilege and pleasure to ensure that he gets punished to the full measure of the law,” Mr Finch replied gravely. 

A knock at the door put an end to their conversation. An unknown goblin entered and requested their presence in King Ragnok’s receiving chamber. 

“This is a great honour, wizards,” the goblin grunted. “Behave and treat the king with all due respect, or you won’t live to see the next morning.” 

“Of course,” Mr Finch answered smoothly. “We are conscious of the nearly unheard of distinction your king is gracing us with.” 

“Hmpf.” 

The goblin rapped the huge golden knocker on the portal, waddling in and announcing Harry and Mr Finch’s presence. As soon as King Ragnok had acknowledged their deep bow of greeting, the goblin left and closed the door behind him. 

“So this is the infamous Mr Potter,” Ragnok growled in a gravelly voice. He was huge and rather ugly to Harry’s eye. His long, pointy ears looked flayed like a street cat’s and there were at least half a dozen scars on his wrinkled face alone. The largest, an inch thick monstrosity, went from his cheek right through his lips, which gave him a terrifying grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lord.” 

“Likewise, King Ragnok,” Harry replied in a shaky voice. 

“You look small for a wizard your age, and yet Ripthroat tells me of many fantastic deeds. I would hear all those stories myself, Mr Potter. Have no fear that I’ll abuse such a privilege. I shall, of course, pledge my silence.” 

Mr Finch nodded encouragingly but said, “If it pleases Your Majesty, a pledge on behalf of the Horde would let my client rest easier. I do not mean to slight you, but we all know that confidential information has a way to get out.” 

Ragnok bared his teeth in a shark-like grin. “That it does, Master Finch, that it does. Very well, it shall be done.” 

Harry could only stand in awed silence as the goblin king made his vow. The amount of magic heaving up and around was so vast that every hair on his body stood straight and his nerves sang with the sparks of energy zipping through the chamber. 

When it was over, he and Mr Finch were allowed to sit on a comfy sofa. Ripthroat arranged a small feast of refreshments and potions, to help the human guests through a long night of talking. 

And talk Harry did. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

As terrifying as the goblins were, they were very good listeners and generous allies if it suited them. The story of the basilisk and Harry’s encounter with the shade of Tom Riddle naturally drew attention to Harry’s first year at Hogwarts and Professor Quirrel’s unfortunate fate. His third year was of interest to Ragnok because of Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban, which had brought on the roaming of dementors all over Britain. It turned out that goblins despised few things more than the soulless creatures that lived off the torment of sentient beings. 

But it was Harry’s fourth-year shenanigans that captivated the two goblins the most. Harry’s question regarding his status as an emancipated minor prompted a fast-tracked query that would be answered in less than an hour, and a halting admittance of meeting his parents while in a state of near-death had both Ragnok and Ripthroat cursing like sailors. 

“He made soul shards!” the goblin king shouted. “Dirty abominations! Ripthroat, write a note! I am too furious to hold my pen!” 

Growling in their rough language, the note was quickly written and dispatched via the tap of a claw. 

“Er, may I ask what you just ordered?” Harry asked, equal parts fearful and fascinated. “That sounded dead serious.” 

“Because it is,” Ripthroat answered. King Ragnok was still frothing at the mouth, his beady eyes glowing with his fury. “Soul shards, or horcruxes as they are known to some, are a result of the blackest of magics. The witch or wizard who creates such literally cleaves their soul in two to store one part of the soul in an object. We suspect that Voldemort quite probably made more than one. Two, if we count the abomination in your head, Mr Potter, which we certainly do.” 

“Merlin, I hope not!” Harry blurted, only to clap a hand on his mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just, the diary was bad enough. Also, cleaving a soul more than once sounds dangerous. And a little stupid. Is that why he’s so, er, unhinged?” 

“It would explain a lot,” Ripthroat said dryly. “In the past, no one has attempted it, not even the greatest of pharaohs or kings. That does not mean that Riddle hasn’t done it, of course. Knowing of two instances, one can never be too careful. To that end, it pleased King Ragnok to order an audit of all our vaults. Usually, Gringotts does not care what wizards store in their vaults, as long as the contents are not harmful to the Horde, but this is an exception. If we find a soul shard, no matter who it belongs to, it will be destroyed. We can do no less.” 

“Thanks,” Harry said, heartily relieved that someone finally believed him and took him seriously. “Uhm, should I continue with the story, or do you need a moment?” 

Ripthroat gestured for the teapot to pour Harry and Mr Finch another cup. “Please continue. King Ragnok is listening, even if he is still fuming. Don’t mind him, he has had plenty of practice in his long years as our ruler.” 

Trusting the goblin’s word, Harry continued his tale, taking care to emphasize Cedric’s contribution to the adventure. Not only did his fellow champion kill Nagini, but he also managed to stun Pettigrew while Harry had been nearly dead. His recounting of their talk in front of the cauldron had the goblins laugh in great heaving bellows, and the boys’ ingenuity in vanishing the evidence and concealing their presence provoked a couple of appreciative thumps on the royal desk. 

“What tales you have told us, young lord! I see the pieces before me,” Ragnok said, pausing to guffaw again at the lumps of transfigured wood and the pieces of the snapped wands, “and yet it is hard to believe that Tom Riddle has suffered yet another devastating blow. Two children managed what Dumbledore so wishes to accomplish! Oh, how the old fool would boil in envy if he knew! What I wouldn’t give for your memory of the event.” 

Harry licked his suddenly dry lips. “Well.” 

Both goblins looked hungrily at him, their yellow eyes nearly aglow. 

“Well,” Mr Finch repeated, catching on remarkably fast, “my client is desirous of seeing his godfather free. Since there’s no other evidence of Voldemort’s defeat left, letting you watch a memory should be worth your assistance in achieving that goal, yes?” 

“Done,” Ragnok said immediately, slamming his paw on his desk like an auctioneer would his hammer. He was still glowing with mirth, his fierce amusement almost another presence in the room. “We haven’t had a good row with you wizards in a century! Besides, confirming Mr Potter’s status as an adult is a mere formality; the Ministry cannot forge a document that magic itself generates in contract matters such as the Triwizard Tournament participation. Even if they handed out an original, we believe Mr Potter’s claim that he’s never seen it, not to mention signed it after review. Magic would _know_ , and it won’t be suppressed by mere mortals.” 

“Whoever’s my magical guardian could’ve forged my signature,” Harry said miserably. “It’s super easy copying things with magic, isn’t it?” 

“Not a magical signature, youngling,” Ragnok replied. “A forgery would never hold up in court and would bring down the wrath of the ICW. Whoever tried to keep you in the dark won’t risk it. And if they do ...” His grin became so broad that he looked like the horror movie version of the Cheshire Cat. “They will deeply regret it.” 

Despite the terrifying grin, Harry relaxed completely. “Awesome.” 

“Quite,” Mr Finch agreed and took a sip of his tea. 

“Uhm, can we go back to Cedric for a bit?” Harry asked, twisting his fingers. “As I said, he did a lot to help me - I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without his help. I’ve already decided to let him claim the victory for the tournament, but that seems hardly enough. Is there a way to, I don’t know, reward him? For his service to magical Britain, or something?” 

“Sharing honour is a fine trait in any magical being,” Ripthroat said and nodded. 

“I decided to destroy the evidence,” Harry continued, “so he won’t be able to tell people and back it up. Worse, he did it because I talked him into it.” 

Ragnok steepled his long claws and hummed thoughtfully. “I agree that your friend deserves a reward for his service to your cause.” 

At that moment, a rolled-up piece of parchment popped into existence on the king’s desk. After a short perusal, Ragnok grinned and said, “As I see it, you have quite a few options now.” 

“I take it that Mr Potter’s emancipation is legal?” Mr Finch asked mildly. At the king’s nod, he made another note in his book. “Excellent. If you’ll excuse us for just a minute, Your Majesty?” 

“By all means,” Ragnok said. 

Turning to Harry, Mr Finch said, “Since you are an adult now, Mr Potter, you may decide whether you wish to remain at Hogwarts. The tournament has ended and the students will leave for the holidays tomorrow. Nothing is holding you there.” 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. It had completely slipped his mind that his fourth year was already over. “Right.” 

“If you know of a way to quietly retrieve your things, I’d advise you to arrange it,” Mr Finch continued. “There’s no reason to allow anyone at Hogwarts to take possession of them.” 

“I do. Er, may I call a house elf, Your Majesty?” Harry asked. 

“Go right ahead, Mr Potter,” Ragnok rumbled. He looked inordinately entertained, which was a little disoriented after his near-apoplexy not thirty minutes earlier. 

Harry called for Dobby and spent two minutes trying to calm down the tearful elf. Presented with a task to do for his Harry Potter sir, Dobby popped away and returned not only with all of Harry’s belongings, but also his erstwhile godfather. 

Ripthroat blinked at the unkempt wizard staring in horror at the goblin king. “Well, I didn’t expect this.” 

“Harry!” Sirius cried and lunged at the boy, shaking off his surprise. “Merlin, what happened! No one would tell me anything, people were going _nuts_ at Hogwarts! They caught a Death Eater, can you believe it? No, scratch that, of course you can, what with the bloody tournament and all. Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“Please calm yourself, Lord Black,” Mr Finch said. He poured a cup of tea and held it out. “Let’s have tea and a discussion like civilized people.” 

Sirius glanced at the lawyer for a moment. “I’m not letting go of my godson. Not even for tea, and I really want a cup of tea right now.” 

Something warm blossomed in Harry’s chest and he smiled. “You won’t have to. We can be a family now!” He reached around Sirius’ back and clasped Dobby’s narrow shoulder. “Thank you, Dobby! You have no idea what this means to me!” 

“Dobby knows,” the elf squeaked, bowed, and popped away. 

“I wish that were true,” Sirius breathed, nearly hugging the stuffing out of Harry again. Where he found the strength Harry didn’t know; the man was nearly skin and bones. 

“You’ll find that your godson managed to advance your case by quite a bit,” Ragnok said gleefully. He pointed a claw at the items on his otherwise empty desk. “One of these blocks of wood is Peter Pettigrew. Still alive, even. That should do the trick.” 

“What?” Sirius’ eyes bulged worse than Cedric’s. “How?” 

“I don’t want to explain again,” Harry said. “But you can watch the memory. I was going to give it to King Ragnok in exchange for his help in freeing you.” 

Speechless, Sirius stared at the goblins. “Truly?” 

“It is our pleasure,” Ripthroat said. “Your godson was emancipated via the forced participation in the Triwizard Tournament and therefore his arrest of Peter Pettigrew is subject to family law. Gringotts recommends bringing the case before the ICW and the World Court of Magic, to preclude meddling by the British Ministry of Magic.” 

“Mr Finch will take care of it,” Harry declared. He held Sirius by the shoulders. “He’ll clean up that mess. No more dementors.” 

Sirius sniffled. “I never thought I’d see the day. Can I have fire whisky in my tea, please?” 

While Mr Finch plied his godfather with food and alcohol, Harry listened to Ripthroat’s instructions on how to extract a memory and store it in a pensieve. It took a while because Harry was exhausted, but once the memory started flowing, it went very well. Afterwards, the goblin wiggled and waved his long, spindly fingers in a complicated pattern to make a copy. 

“You may take the memory back now, Mr Potter,” Ripthroat said. “King Ragnok will watch it in private later. Lord Black may watch it tomorrow after he’s rested.” 

Harry patted his already half-asleep godfather on the shoulder. “Good idea. Er, I have no earthly idea where we could go to sleep. The Leaky Cauldron is nice, but Cedric went there to draw attention away from me, so that’s probably a bad idea.” 

“Gringotts will accommodate you as long as needed,” Ripthroat replied. “We will have many things to discuss and decide, the reading of the Potter will among them. Your presence here has the added benefit of stymying certain meddlesome personages. By now news of Mr Diggory’s little detour to London will have reached Hogwarts. It is only a matter of time until Mr Potter’s whereabouts will become known.” 

“It’s not Cedric’s fault,” Harry defended his friend. “He never promised complete silence, he just agreed to help me get to London and keep mum about the Voldemort thing. I don’t want him to get in trouble.” 

“He won’t,” Ripthroat assured him. “Not with Gringotts at least. Now, allow me to send for a guide to see you to your quarters. Mr Finch, you are welcome to stay as well, should you wish to absent yourself from society while your clients are vulnerable.” 

Mr Finch nodded. “Thank you, I gladly accept your generous offer.” 

Upon reaching their rooms it became evident that Sirius was in no way prepared to be separated from Harry. Harry didn’t mind his clinginess and even insisted on sharing the large bed in the room. 

“I can turn into Padfoot if you’re uncomfortable,” Sirius muttered under their goblin guide’s stare. 

“You’re like my dad, don’t be dumb,” Harry huffed. He flopped onto the mattress and sighed. “Gosh, I could sleep for a week.” 

“You can try, wizard,” the goblin snarked. With a swish of his fingers, Harry’s belongings stacked themselves up neatly by the wall. “Have your elf hang up your clothes. I am not your maid. Good night.” 

“Good night,” Harry retorted and waved at the grumpy goblin. 

A second later he was out like a light. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA 02/02/2021: I added a teeny tiny bit to the signing scene because people complained about me not mentioning any of Harry's friends. I did so by design because Harry is still completely overwhelmed and even thoughtful teenagers sometimes shove everything but the most important thing right in front of them aside, but I understand how readers might find it incomplete. :)

**Chapter 5**

  
  


Harry did try to sleep for a week. 

He managed two and a half days. 

No one had disturbed his rest and when he was finally ready for a shower, he felt like a different person. 

“You is awake!” a squeaky voice exclaimed. “Dobby is so happy!” 

“Dobby?” Harry croaked. He sat up and accepted the glasses the house elf handed him. Now that he could see clearly, the elf’s canary yellow dungarees and bright blue wellies were quite the ray of sunshine in the dim chamber. “You’re still here?” 

“There is no students at Hoggywarty,” Dobby said. “And Harry Potter Sir is needing Dobby. Harry Potter sir’s dogfather sent Dobby to buy clothes. Dogfather threw out ugly old things.” He presented Harry with a stack of folded clothes. “Dobby is choosing this for meeting with Harry Potter sir’s Finch and goblins.” 

“Oh, thank you.” Confused and a little embarrassed about all the work Dobby had done for him, Harry took the clothes. “Uhm, I’ll pay you for your work. As soon as I can get some money.” 

Dobby grinned at him. “Dobby is having breakfast ready after Harry Potter sir is done in the bathroom.” 

Still bemused, Harry trudged into the elegant bath and spent long minutes in the shower, where the water never lost pressure and was always _just_ the right temperature. The clothes Sirius had bought were a good fit and Harry’s godfather had even purchased a wand holster so Harry didn’t have to put his wand into his robe or trouser pocket. 

“You is looking good, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby praised. “Now you eat breakfast. Dobby brought poached eggs and sauteed mangold and lemony butter sauce and toast and grapefruit and tea and-” 

Overwhelmed, Harry grasped the small elf’s hand. “Thanks, that’s amazing. I’m famished. Er, will you sit with me? Everyone else seems to be busy.” 

“Dobby will!” 

They sat and Harry inhaled his rather fantastic breakfast. Dobby declined to partake, choosing to pop a few large striped berries into his mouth instead. 

“Say,” Harry began once every crumb was eaten, “do you like working at Hogwarts?” 

“It is fine,” Dobby replied, twitching his ears. “Headmaster Dumblydore is paying Dobby a knut a month.” 

“Only a knut?” Harry asked, appalled. 

“Headmaster Dumblydore not _need_ Dobby,” Dobby explained. He lowered his voice and twitched almost as badly as he’d done in Harry’s second school year. “Headmaster Dumblydore pays Dobby from his own pocket.” 

A bad feeling began to form in Harry’s slightly overfull belly. “Does he send you on any _special_ missions?” 

Dobby’s shifty eyes were telling. “Dobby can’t say.” 

“Did he ask you to keep an eye on me?” Harry pressed. 

“Dobby can’t say,” Dobby repeated while fighting to nod his head. 

“That bloody - does he at least treat you well?” Harry demanded. 

At this, at least, Dobby nodded vigorously. “Dobby is not asked to iron his fingers or clamp his ears, Harry Potter sir. But …” Shyly, the elf looked up, “but maybe Dobby would like working for Harry Potter sir better.” 

“Good lord, I’d like it better, too!” Harry cried. “Who does he think he is, asking you to spy on me.” 

Dobby pulled a knut from his trouser pocket and placed it on the table. “Dobby is giving that back. Dobby no longer works for Headmaster Dumblydore.” 

“How much do you want for wages?” Harry asked, viciously satisfied at the sight of the lone bronze knut. “And do you need days off?” 

“Dobby only needs money for clothes and food,” Dobby said cautiously. “Dobby doesn’t want days off, but Dobby …” He drew in a deep breath. “Dobby wants to try having a family again. Harry Potter sir is the best of wizards.” 

“You what? Seriously?” 

“Dobby believes in Harry Potter sir’s kindness,” Dobby squeaked. His large eyes gleamed wetly. “Dobby wants to be free, but he also wants to be Harry Potter sir’s elf. Dobby is presumptuous, but Dobby knows that Harry Potter sir won’t punish Dobby for telling him this.” 

“Of course I won’t.” Harry hooked his feet around the legs of Dobby’s chair and dragged it towards himself until he and Dobby were so close that their knees touched. “You’re already my friend. Having you in the family would only make it better, wouldn’t it? Plus, I can afford to keep you in clothes and to feed you. Even if I didn’t, Sirius is stinking rich. He’d take care of it.” 

Dobby let out a mighty wail and launched himself at Harry. “Dobby wants that! Dobby is the happiest of elves!” 

Something warm, almost liquid, passed between them and settled bubbly and comforting in Harry’s chest. 

“Since we’re already at Gringotts, we can ask the goblins to draft a contract for your wages and stuff,” Harry said, patting Dobby’s heaving back. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” 

“Dobby is _so_ pleased,” the elf whispered and hiccoughed. His face was shining with tears and magic. “Dobby needs to go and do some work before happiness is making Dobby pop away. Maybe Harry Potter sir could make a mess for Dobby to clean up?” 

“I have a better idea,” Harry said, a little disturbed by the elf’s suggestion. “Could you go and find out what happened with Cedric? Do you know him?” 

Dobby nodded eagerly. “Dobby does. Harry Potter sir’s Cedric is a nice wizard. Nice magic all over. Dobby will find him and ask him.” 

“Thank you. I’ll write him a letter later, but Sirius and I have things to do here first.” Harry flushed. “Er, do I have to ask you to keep our location secret? No one should know where we are or what we’re doing.” 

A wide grin appeared on Dobby’s face. “Dobby is keeping all the secrets! Dobby is a very good elf for his Harry Potter sir! Dobby is going now.” He snatched up the knut and vanished with a quiet pop. 

Harry didn’t have a lot of time to ponder this latest development because soon after Dobby’s departure a goblin appeared and led him to Ripthroat’s office. 

“There you are,” Sirius greeted him, pulling him close and pressing a kiss onto Harry’s forehead. “Just in time for some great news. Are you awake enough to hear them? You do look much better.” 

“Dobby let me have a full pot of tea,” Harry answered. He bowed to Ripthroat and Mr Finch. “Good afternoon, sirs. I apologize for taking so long to recover.” 

The goblin waved that away impatiently. “I was quite busy with Lord Black in your absence, Heir Potter. As of now, his case of unlawful incarceration is being examined by the ICW and the World Court of Magic. Mr Pettigrew will be transferred to the WCM’s holding facility as soon as you’ve taken up your lordship. While you are emancipated, it always looks better if the proper head of house signs the paperwork.” 

“I see. So that’s what I’ll be doing first?” Harry questioned. 

By way of an answer, Sirius held out a black wooden box that was nearly vibrating with magic. “It’s impatient to join with you.” 

“Okay …” After taking a moment to swallow down his apprehension, Harry opened the lid of the box. Inside lay a large signet ring. The flat square side showed a crest but somehow Harry had a feeling that the ring wasn’t quite complete. “Wow, it’s … huge. It’ll never fit me.” 

“It will,” Sirius promised. “Just put it on the middle finger of your left hand. Before you ask, the ring finger is reserved for your wedding band. If you were left-handed, the rings would go on your right hand. This is meant to keep your wand arm free and your rings safe.” 

“Ah, good to know. Alright then, here we go …” Harry plucked the ring from the box, examined the crest on it again, and then slowly slid it onto his left middle finger. It was strange to imagine this ring sitting on his father’s hand, and even stranger to know that James had only been Lord Potter for two very short years. 

Harry hoped that he’d do better than his poor dad. 

As soon as the ring was fully settled, its magic flared and enveloped Harry in a fierce embrace. It was overwhelming yet not enough to feel the touch of all the lords and ladies that had come before him. 

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked gently when the haze of magic finally let up a little. His warm fingers brushed away tears that Harry hadn’t noticed falling. “Taking up a lordship can be overwhelming, especially when your predecessor died violently.” 

“I’m fine,” Harry murmured and ducked his head. He found a handkerchief in his breast pocket and dried his face. “If there are any more potentially traumatizing things to do, I’d like to get it over with now.” 

Ripthroat snorted loudly. “A wizard after my own heart! Congratulations on your ascension, Lord Potter. May Lady Magic stand with you and your house during all your days.” 

Harry cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir.” 

Mr Finch, who’d been quiet so far, said, “Your parents’ will is next on the agenda, milord, unless you do not, in fact, wish to continue with a potentially traumatizing task.” 

“No, no, that sounds swell,” Harry retorted, smiling crookedly at the appreciative chuckles of the men. “It’s long overdue anyway.” 

Harry had never experienced a reading of a testament first hand, although there had been quite a few on the telly. He acknowledged the gifts his parents had intended for their friends and felt an indecent amount of schadenfreude when the will expressly named Pettigrew as the Potter’s secret keeper. Wormtail’s betrayal excluded him from the money James had set aside for him and Harry couldn’t help but be smug that Pettigrew wouldn’t have enough gold for a good lawyer, or at least not from the Potters. 

“With your permission, Gringotts will arrange the disbursement of the gifts immediately,” Ripthroat said once the reading of that part of the will had concluded. “Other than Mr Pettigrew, none of your late parents’ friends have become criminals or done anything to harm your magical house.” 

Harry looked at Sirius. “Fine by me. What do you say?” 

Sirius smiled proudly. “I agree, pup.” 

Ripthroat nodded and made a note on his parchment. “Very well. That done, only two items remain. The first is the transferral of all remaining monies and family possessions to the current Lord Potter, which won’t be a problem, I trust. The second, however, is the intended custody arrangement for Lord Potter. It seems to have been grossly disregarded and might be subject to criminal charges.” 

“In what manner?” Mr Finch asked. 

Harry listened with growing horror and fury as Ripthroat laid out his parents’ wishes. From all the many complicated words used he only gleaned that he shouldn’t have ever been given to his Aunt Petunia. Apparently, even a muggle orphanage would have been better than Lily Potter’s sister and her husband. 

Harry couldn’t say that he disagreed. 

He only realized that he was throwing off accidental magic in spades when Sirius hugged him tightly and murmured apologies into his ear. 

“I’m so very sorry, Harry. I should’ve gotten you and run that night. Hagrid is a good guy, but he’s not the sharpest spike on a dragon’s tail. Dumbledore told him where to take you, no one else would have … he placed you with the muggles _with the full knowledge that you weren’t to go there_. Merlin, I’ll kill him for this.” 

“I respectfully ask that you get in line, Lord Black,” Ripthroat said casually. “The Horde has a way of dealing with child abusers and my King Ragnok would be put out if you denied him the pleasure.” 

“Fond of Harry, is he?” Sirius sniped. 

“Who wouldn’t be, after that utter _gem_ of a memory,” Ripthroat retorted. Turning to Harry, he went on, “Let’s set aside the issue of your muggle relatives for the time being. They _will_ get punished for their treatment of you, Lord Potter. You have my word.” 

“Uhm, okay.” Harry angrily rubbed his cheeks. “Can I know how?” 

“Of course,” Sirius murmured. “You’re an adult now, we won’t keep anything from you.” 

That calmed Harry down almost better than a potion. “Okay. Sorry for flipping out.” 

“I’m not offended at your emotional outburst,” Ripthroat said almost nicely. “Were it me, heads would already be rolling. Now, you mentioned that your friend, young Master Diggory, deserved more of a reward for his invaluable help and after watching your memory my king agrees.” 

Grateful for the change of topics, Harry perked up. “Yeah?” 

Ripthroat nodded. “Gringotts can always use more wizards with such a helpful disposition. The lad seems to be bright and magically robust. Should he seek employment at Gringotts, we are prepared to fast-track his application for any position he desires.” 

“Wow, that’s great! Who gets to tell him?” 

“There’s more,” Sirius said. “You’re a lord now. You have no issue yet, and almost all of your family’s vassals were released from their oaths.” 

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Harry admitted. “Are you saying I should adopt Cedric?” 

“In a manner of speaking.” Sirius turned his whole body towards Harry and explained, “We gathered information on the Diggory family while you were resting. His father is a politician but his mother doesn’t work. They are doing well financially, but they are by no means rich. As Ripthroat said, Cedric is a bright lad and could go far on his own merit. The point is that he doesn’t have to. Not with _you_ in his corner.” 

“I don’t know him all that well,” Harry admitted, “but he’s not at all lazy. If I can help him somehow, I’ll do it.” 

“Then maybe you’d like to think about offering him a vassal bond,” Sirius said. “Originally, vassals were bonded servants to a house. In exchange for housing and feeding them as well as taking care of their education, the vassal put his often not inconsiderable skills at his lord’s disposal. This is still happening today, though often such bonds take on a familial quality. Vassals are respected and cherished members of the house and often bring fresh ideas and skills into the fold.” 

“But … Cedric my servant?” Harry asked doubtfully. “I don’t think I can do that. And he’d probably laugh himself sick before kicking my arse.” 

“I think you underestimate the prestige such a bond would bring a family of commoners,” Ripthroat interjected. “Your family, while not part of the sacred twenty-eight, is _known_ in the wizarding world, Lord Potter. The mere association would open doors for Mr Diggory that most likely would have remained firmly closed otherwise. Then there’s the cost of extensive education, as well as for the appropriate clothing and feeding of a wizard of some standing. In some cases, housing is a factor as well and should young Master Diggory choose a profession that’s not useful to your endeavours, you’d have invested without getting a return … aside from providing him with a comfortable future.” 

“I assume that you wouldn’t wish to dictate Cedric’s choices, Harry,” Sirius said gently. “Or am I wrong in that?” 

Harry shook his head. “No, of course not. Wow.” 

“Taking on a servant is as much a duty as it is a privilege,” Ripthroat said. “You understand this already, do you not?” 

“What does he mean?” Sirius asked, surprised. 

Harry needed a moment to understand what the goblin was getting at. “Er, Dobby happened,” he mumbled once the knut had dropped and blushed at Ripthroat’s smug grin. “Don’t be mad; he wasn’t happy in Dumbledore’s employ so we decided to give it a go. I’ll pay him, though, because he wants to be sort-of-free and likes clothes. I’d like to draft a contract to that end later.” 

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Harry Potter, vanquisher of dark lords and adopter of house elves!” 

“You jest, Lord Black, but that is essentially what Lord Potter would be offering young Master Diggory,” Ripthroat said. “It speaks well of you that you would respect Mr Diggory’s life choices, Lord Potter. That only compounds the fact that you would be settling a substantial amount of money on him and allow him to come into his full potential in thanks for services already rendered. Whatever services he may offer your family going forward would be considered a bonus.” 

“The vassal thing is a little strange,” Harry said haltingly, “but the rest sounds pretty good. I, er, I’ll think about it. But a plan would be good. Like, what I’d need to know and do and stuff before I go and make the offer.” 

“I’ll take care of that, Lord Potter,” Mr Finch told him. “Should you like what you learn, I’ll be glad to set up the contract for you. Unless you wish for Gringotts to handle that. It would be a good choice, seeing how they already have their eye on Mr Diggory.” 

That was all a little much for Harry to process at once. “Uhm, maybe we can talk more about it later?” 

“Yes, of course,” Mr Finch replied. “My apologies.” 

“No, no, it’s alright. It’s good, doing something for Cedric. I just …” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just want to get the will thing over with first. And the thing with Sirius’ trial, too.” 

“Well, you can be reassured that Lord Black’s freedom is nearly a done deal after what your parents’ will revealed today,” Ripthroat said, showing his teeth in a sharp grin. “Combined with an alive Mr Pettigrew, the only matter to be decided after the WCM’s investigation will be the amount of Lord Black’s compensation for his unlawful imprisonment. Gringotts recommends investing in land and property and offers its services in the procurement of such.” 

“Nice of you,” Sirius quipped dryly, but his eyes were alight with hope and determination. 

“When do you think all of this will be over?” Harry asked. “I don’t mean to offend, but I hadn’t planned on spending my holiday at Gringotts, even if it’d be loads better than staying with my relatives, and it seems we’d have to if we want to avoid, well, everyone.” 

“Well, you’ve accepted your lordship, so now you can sign all the pesky paperwork to get Wormtail’s transfer underway, never mind the transferral of the Potter family vault to you. Gringotts has already pulled my criminal file from the Ministry. We’ll send that first, together with a request to overturn my conviction. They’ll demand evidence within 48 hours, that’s when Gringotts will send Pettigrew and his wand.” 

“And then?” 

“They’ll question him thoroughly,” Mr Finch continued the explanation. “I imagine that they’ll pull every shred of knowledge about Tom Riddle from his mind. As soon as Lord Black’s innocence is confirmed, I as Lord Black’s legal representative will be informed.” 

“As will be the Ministry of Magic,” Ripthroat added. “Although _they_ will be also slapped with an order to rescind the kiss on sight order and shell out the compensation. I can’t wait to see Minister Fudge explode.” 

“Me neither,” Harry said. “So it’s just … a waiting game?” 

“Until I’m cleared we’d better not leave Gringotts, you were right about that,” Sirius said apologetically, “what with the dementors still out for my soul and everybody clamouring to get their hands on you. But as soon as the WCM has published its decision, that’ll stop and we can leave.” 

“Leave where?” Harry asked, a little lost. “We don’t have a home, do we?” 

Sirius took his hand and squeezed it. “We do, actually, but we can go wherever we want and build one if that’s what you want. When the whole business with the tournament started, you told me that you’ve never seen the ocean - we could spend the whole summer on my island in the Caribbean. It’s unplottable and not many people even know it exists. We could go swimming, and diving, we could dance under the stars with very kind people, and the sun would shine on us every single day. Dobby could have a holiday too. And with time, we’ll be able to invite people we trust. You won’t have to be without your friends forever, I promise.” 

“Sounds great,” Harry whispered. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and hear the waves roll against the beach. Even more than that could he imagine how fantastic it would be to have Sirius all to himself for a while and just _bask_ in finally being a family. “Let’s do that.” 

“Promise?” Sirius asked and offered his pinkie like a child. He didn’t look well, but the magic happily drifting over his sallow skin made him appear years younger and less tired. 

“Promise,” Harry returned and completed the pinkie swear. 

“You’ve been had, Lord Potter,” Ripthroat chortled. He waved a hand and half a week’s worth of Daily Prophets landed on his desk. “Now that most of the important points are off your agenda, you might like to learn what Great Britain has been up to these last three days. Fair warning, you’ll probably lose your mind.” 

“Several times,” Mr Finch added sardonically. 

Harry narrowed his eyes at the papers. “I want to know, but I also want to chuck that rag into the fire.” 

Sirius stood, grabbed the newspapers, and threw them unceremoniously into the merrily burning fire of Ripthroat’s fireplace. 

“What?” he asked when he noticed everyone’s stares. “I see no reason to subject my kid to abuse. Do you?” 

“Not a bit,” Mr Finch said. 

“Me neither.” Ripthroat looked like he wanted to roar with laughter. “I’ll hold the mail until further notice, yes?” 

“Good man,” Sirius praised. “So, shall we get on with the signing of the documents?” 

"Wait, mail?" Harry asked. "From whom?"

"I assume some of the letters are from your friends," Ripthroat said, "but it's hard to tell; we have set aside a whole vault just for your post. As of this morning almost nine-thousand letters have reached us here."

Harry grimaced. "Oh no, I'm sorry. Uhm, can I send Dobby to find the letters from my friends?"

"Of course you can, it's your mail. Now, let's finish this up, Lord Potter." Ripthroat produced a long, black quill and beckoned Harry over. “It’s best not to think about what ink this quill uses,” he said. “Just know that there won’t be lasting damage.” 

“Er, okay.” Harry addressed Mr Finch, “This is all kosher, right? I can just sign without reading?” 

“I’ve gone over everything, as has Lord Black. Everything is in order,” Mr Finch assured him. 

“Alright then,” Harry sighed and signed the first of at least two dozen pieces of parchment. When he saw blood well up on the back of his hand he glared at Sirius. “You bloody owe me so much ice cream for this!” 

“It’s already on the to-do list for the summer,” Sirius grinned and blew him a kiss. “Just think about our holiday. You’ll need swimwear, Harry, and flippers. I’ll have to teach you all the spells against sunburn and pests, not sure if I can manage that in a week, but I’ll certainly try. Oh, and we definitely need to school you in the art of flirting because _boy_ are some of the girls there beautiful …” 

As Sirius rambled on about all the things he wanted to show Harry and have him experience for himself, Harry threw himself into his task. Going so quickly hurt more, but it was over sooner and a smart healing spell took care of the discomfort. 

Quite anticlimactically, several of the forms duplicated themselves and flashed away. 

“The ball’s rolling now,” Sirius said with great satisfaction. “Black Island, here we come!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue**

**Black Island, Summer of 1997**

  
  


“Harry!” a warm voice called. 

Only a second later, Harry was swept up in a bear hug and laughter filled his ears. 

“Merlin, look at you. You’ve gone fully native since I saw you last! You’re incredibly tanned!” 

Harry grinned at his sneak-attacker. “Cedric! Great that you could make it! Did you get the whole three weeks?” 

“Sure did. If Lord Potter requests my services, Gringotts obliges.” 

“Fantastic!” 

The two young men thumped each other’s backs and separated again. 

“Now who did you bring?” Harry asked, finally acknowledging the stately blonde by Cedric’s side. “No way, would you look at that. Is that really you, Miss Delacour? You must be at least twice as pretty now than you were three years ago. Enchanté.” He bowed over her hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. 

“Eet eez a pleasure to meet again, Lord Potter,” Fleur said and curtsied prettily. She was already dressed for the warm climate and stood barefoot on the beach where the international portkey had dropped them, burrowing her dainty toes in the wet sand. “Cedric asked me to be ze plus one to your coming-of-age party and Gringotts was kind enoof to grant me leave for ze occasion.” 

“Sirius calls it the _Ultimate Birthday Bash_ ,” Harry grinned. “You’ll both love it. He’s invited all my friends and bonded with a dozen new house elves just so everything would be perfect. He’s silly like that but I kind of love him to pieces and just let him do whatever he likes.” He shrugged in an easy _what-can-you-do_ gesture that Cedric promptly answered with his own. After his victory in the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric’s father couldn’t be prouder if he tried … and he _had_ tried. 

Fleur fell into step beside Harry, Cedric on his other side. “I still can’t beleeve zat you left Britain after ze tournament. Just like zat!” She snapped her fingers. “My muzzer collected _all_ ze newspaper articles about ze uproar in Europe.” She shook her beautiful head admiringly. “Ze mystery is still killing us. No news to be ‘ad for three years now, except what ze World Court was giving out! Zat must be a record.” 

“It actually is. The amount of magic involved is frankly obscene.” Cedric slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder and laughed. “I’m _still_ mad that you left me alone to deal with the vultures.” 

“I made up for it in spades,” Harry retorted. “ _Curse Breaker Diggory_.” 

“No, nope, not even your money and connections can erase the trauma Dumblefuck and the Ministry put me through,” Cedric snorted. “I was questioned like a criminal for _hours_! I have a _criminal record_! For losing you!” 

“They still haven’t destroyed it?” Harry asked incredulously. “I could swear I laid into Shacklebolt the last time I wrote him. Heck, Gringotts offered to start a minor rebellion to finally see it done. They insist they owe me for their late participation in ending Voldemort but _I_ believe that they just want to have some fun.” 

“Try again after the next election. My dad has decided to run for office,” Cedric said dryly. “Good thing I’m stationed in Egypt now or he’d parade me around like a prize stallion wherever we go.” 

“Right, you’re working under Bill Weasley now,” Harry said. “How is he? Still in love with the desert?” 

“Yep, but also interested in Fleur,” Cedric sighed, aggrieved. “Who can blame him, though? Thankfully there’s a beautiful new ex-hit witch on the team and she seems to _really_ like him. Takes his protection all seriously and shit.” 

They left the wet part of the beach and wandered inland, towards a dozen exotic-looking bungalows on wooden stakes and with thick straw roofs. At least as many people were milling about, some pale like one would expect from British folks, but others were dark-skinned with black hair and blinding smiles. They all raised their hands in greeting. 

“Milord, this eez beautiful!” Fleur gasped, taking in the vibrant colours and plentiful flowers adorning the huts. 

“Wait until night falls, then we’ll have torches and fairy lights. Sirius and our kitchen staff are already busy preparing the food. Also, there’ll be rum. The Blacks were big on making their own and left a huge stash on the island. You should ask Cedric about that sometime, he’s working diligently on making a dent in it.” 

“Oi, don’t you go telling her all my secrets, _milord_ ,” Cedric cried in mock outrage. 

“What’s worse, my Uncle Remus has taken up the business and established us as the local brand,” Harry smirked. “That dent will _never_ be made.” 

“May I ask ‘oo all theze people are?” Fleur asked, still looking around in awe. “Iz zere a village close by?” 

“Well, the white-ish guys and gals are from Europe, mostly, and only here for the festivities. Some Americans will join us later, and the rest do live around here, yes. Black Island is private though.” Harry waved back. “Some families from the main island renewed their vassal bond with Sirius when he returned after my third year at Hogwarts. They work for him whenever he needs a hand, but most of the time we all just hang out and have fun. Everyone knows that I’ve corresponded with the Salem Academy for Applied Magics, but I’ve actually also visited the school on the main island for my practical studies. It was great, the teachers had a lot of individual time for everyone.” 

“Sounds almost too good to be true,” Fleur murmured, intrigued. 

“It seemed like it for a while, yes,” Harry agreed easily. “But it really was that great. The people here are lovely, no two ways about it. I’ve never encountered anyone more kind, or giving. They brought us food when we first arrived and introduced us to their doctor to take care of our issues, but they also invited us to their holiday festivities and made sure that we didn’t feel like outcasts, despite not knowing us very well. They claimed us as friends when we didn’t even know which side was up and asked for nothing in return. They wouldn’t even accept payment for the food they brought us.” 

Cedric took Fleur’s hand and nodded. “I know the whole bunch; they’re great people. Different from what we’re used to because they don’t stand very much on ceremony, or put stock in having high-paying jobs or having a high status in society. They just want to live good lives with their families and friends and do whatever magic guides them to do.” He waggled his eyebrows at Harry. “Can’t say I don’t see the appeal. It’s a good thing I have your offer of a retirement cabin on the island in writing, milord because I’m rather sure I’ll accept it.” 

Harry laughed. “One of these days you’ll tire of needling me with all that milord crap, Ced.” 

“You wish.” 

“I most sincerely do, you tosser.” Harry stopped in front of the scarlet red hut with the white window frames and sea-blue shutters. To Fleur, he said, “This is Cedric’s cabin. His assigned house elf is named Raeni, she’s a real gem. If you need anything, just call for her and she’ll see to your needs.” 

Fleur leaned a little into Cedric’s side and nodded. “Thank you, milord.” 

Harry smiled at the pretty picture they made. “Call me Harry, please. After all this time, I should hope that we can be friends.” 

Her smile was soft and genuine. “I’d love zat, Harry. Of course, you can call me Fleur.” 

“Alright, then I’ll leave you to settle in and refresh yourselves. Come find us when you’re ready. We’ll be having drinks on our terrace. Raeni will lead you there.” Whistling, Harry turned and walked the short way over to the main cabin, the one he shared with Sirius. 

Its turquoise walls, white shutters never failed to cheer him up and the pink seashells adorning all the frames and the nearly always open entrance door reminded of long days spent searching those same shells and putting them on the house. 

After their secret flight to Black Island, Harry had really needed those quiet, calm days just in his adoptive father’s company. The murmuring of the ocean had helped to soothe the agitation of their minds, and the steady sunshine, so different from Britain’s often wet greyness, had been vital for a much-needed change of perspective. 

Harry thought that he might never wish to leave, were it not for the love of his young life. 

“I’m back!” he called through the house. It was far larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, which was true for all the huts on Black Island. 

“I’m in the kitchen!” 

“You is not crushing the mint correctly,” a house elf scolded. “You is not fit for kitchen duty!” 

Harry chuckled and stepped up behind his fiancée. Almost on their own, his arms wound around her tiny waist and pulled her tightly against his chest. “I told you that Benita would be cross if you try to make your own cocktails, love,” he murmured into her wild hair. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m more than capable of mixing a mojito,” she replied with a huff. 

“Cedric and Fleur arrived in one piece and will stay the whole three weeks,” Harry reported. “They’re looking good, like they’re in love.” 

“Really?” 

“Really, Mione.” Harry pressed a few idle kisses to her neck. “Seems like you were right on the money by setting them up. I can almost feel the bonding magic humming between them. I’d be surprised if they won’t make an announcement soon.” 

She turned in his arms and smiled. “Oh, that’s lovely. I really hope that it works out. I’ll never forget the disaster that was Cho’s visit here; Cedric deserves so much better than a grasping little harpy.” 

Harry snorted out a laugh. “Merlin, _no one_ will ever forget that. You know, just this morning Sirius swore to me that he still doesn’t know how the wards managed to chuck her all the way to Barbados.” 

“A mystery for the ages, I’m sure,” Hermione smirked. She pressed against Harry and wiggled her hips suggestively. “Now that there won’t be any more guests arriving for a while, what about your promise of some afternoon delight?” 

Grinning, Harry nibbled on her tanned, slightly shimmering shoulder. If it weren’t for her tiny bikini top and shorty shorts, he might’ve forgotten himself then and there, and it was glorious. “I swear that the Caribbean sun is doing unspeakable things to you, love. Not that I’m complaining.” 

Hermione turned her head so they could kiss. “One can never practice this particular art enough, or so my parents keep telling me.” 

“The Caribbean sun is doing unspeakable things to them, too,” Harry whispered against her lips. 

“Enough to get my mum pregnant,” Hermione huffed. “At her age, too. Don’t spoil the surprise; they want to announce it tomorrow at your party to make Sirius and Remus lose their minds.” 

Nearly vibrating with laughter at his love’s put out reply, Harry winked at Benita and apparated Hermione away, right into their large bed. It was still unmade, just like Hermione had asked of Winky, and ready for yet another round of love-making. 

oOo

In the early evening, nearly fifty people came together for drinks and snacks on the terrace. It was hidden behind the bungalows and nestled in the island’s wilderness. Torches and fairy lights illuminated the wooden path just as upbeat Caribbean music lured the guests in. 

For an hour or so Harry was busy greeting everyone again and making sure that his guests had drinks and nibbles. It was good to spend time talking to his friends, especially those from Hogwarts. Not many had made the cut after his departure from Britain, but those that had stuck with him had become friends for life. 

Harry had just finished talking with Neville and Blaise Zabini, as unlikely a pairing as he’d ever seen, when his gaze inevitably returned to Hermione. She was talking to Fleur without a trace of self-consciousness and actually seemed to have a good time in the Veela’s company. Harry was glad for it. In his eyes, there wasn’t a more beautiful witch in all of creation. It had been Hermione’s letters that had first assured him that he still had a friend in the world after his _defection_ from Britain became public knowledge. It was her stubbornness that had forced him to come out of his shell-shock at the cruelty of the British magicals and reply to those letters. Notes from his friends and honorary uncle followed, each meticulously tested for charms and curses, although Sirius’ elves would do the same upon the post’s arrival. And when he finally was in a good enough place to pay attention to the happenings in Britain again, it was her that had helped devise a plan on how to deal with what was left of Voldemort. Once she’d become involved, things had begun to happen _fast_. 

“Your dad had that same look on his face when he was observing your mum,” Sirius said quietly and joined Harry in leaning against the balustrade. Remus settled on Harry’s other side, a silent but supportive presence as usual. “I’m glad that something of him survived besides his looks. Once he’d grown up, he was a thoroughly decent bloke and an excellent husband. For him, it was Lily or no one.” 

“Yeah, it sort of feels like that for me, too,” Harry admitted. He just couldn’t get enough of Hermione’s slender, toned form, her wild long hair, or the intelligence in her beautiful eyes. Two years’ worth of holidays in the Caribbean and the opportunity to work with some of the most accomplished wizards and witches in the world had helped her evolve from a somewhat introverted bookworm into the strong, confident woman she was today. “Like she was made for me. I’m so lucky that she thinks the same about me.” 

“Thinking about putting another ring on her finger already, lad?” Sirius asked. He took a drag from his cigar and blew out a smoke turtle. 

Remus cleared his throat and said softly, “You might be disappointed; you know how important her education is to her. Especially after the Weasley debacle of ‘96.” 

It was true. Hermione had been over the moon to accept Harry’s proposal of marriage during the Easter holidays, but she’d made it clear that she wanted to complete her schooling first. Ron Weasley’s utterly hamfisted attempt at luring her into a thoroughly unequal betrothal contract at Christmas had seen to that. 

Shrugging, Harry stole the cigar from his adopted father and inhaled. With a cheeky smile, he blew out a smoke shark that set off to chase Sirius’ turtle. “I’d never hold her back but she’s stubborn. She wants to show all those morons what’s what on her own merits. I don’t even think it’s about Ron anymore. She just despises cronyism.” 

“Commendable, but ultimately frustrating and unrewarding,” Sirius murmured. “Give that back, child, before Gisele sends me to the doghouse _again_.” 

“After tomorrow that excuse won’t work anymore,” Harry snorted but let Sirius have his cigar back. From the other end of the terrace, a dark-skinned beauty a few years older than Sirius and several pounds heavier than was considered chic in Europe narrowed her eyes at them. “You might as well just admit that you two are kinky as fuck and enjoy it.” 

Remus snorted out a laugh. 

“I could have my eye on someone else,” Sirius protested without denying it. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You really should stop assuming that I don’t know who’s coming and going in our house, pops; the wards answer to me, too. I know that you’ve been sneaking in Camilo for a while now, and no, I’m not shocked. ” 

Sirius wiped a hand over his mouth. “Merlin, truly?” 

Harry raised his eyebrow at him, making Sirius huff out a self-deprecating laugh. 

“I’m sorry. To me, you’ll probably always be my little boy. I failed so badly during the first fourteen years of your life, it’s just second nature to hide my _deviancies_ from you.” Sirius pulled a face. 

“Molly Weasley sent another howler, didn’t she?” Harry asked, exasperated. 

“Several, in fact,” Remus confided. “It appears that your magical maturity is making every mother with daughters of marriageable age frantic.” 

Harry scowled. “They can all go rot for all I care. When will you stop reading that heifer’s bullshit, Sirius? We owe her nothing! I wish you’d let me collect on the life debt Ginny owes me to finally get them to lay off. It’s ridiculous how big their hard-on for the Potter fortune is.” 

“After your birthday you can do with the life-debt what you want,” Sirius responded, collected now but still a little subdued. “But please take your time thinking about it. Such a boon might come in handy one day.” 

“Only if you’ll finally adjust the bloody mail ward,” Harry countered. After a pause, he conceded, “As soon as the hangover’s dealt with.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, kid, but alright.” Sirius leaned against Harry and together they spent a few minutes just watching their guests enjoy themselves. 

oOo

Harry’s birthday started with an exceptionally creative wake-up call from his fiancée and continued with a decadent breakfast among his closest family and friends. Sirius and Gisele were sitting close together, the woman’s hand a possessive brand on Harry’s father’s thigh. On her other side, gentle, beautiful Camilo was cutting her food and smiling at his lovers like the sun would never set on them. It was so sweet that Harry felt his own desire for having Hermione with him for all their days like a living, breathing thing. 

“Since you won’t be opening gifts tonight, here’s ours,” Blaise Zabini said once the first hunger had been appeased and handed over a long, cylindrical present. It was wrapped in bright green paper and adorned with a bow that continually changed colours. 

Smiling at him and Neville, Harry opened it and removed a sheet of parchment. “A partnership certificate … for your new business? It’s been launched? Why didn’t you tell me? That’s huge news, congratulations!” 

“It was meant to be a surprise.” Blaise took a breath. “I dislike mushiness, but your turning seventeen is a good moment for it. It was your correspondence with Neville, and Neville sneaking around to be your eyes and ears this last year, that made me curious enough to get to know him. I never expected to find such a good friend, never mind a partner, but here we are, betrothed and ready to start our own business at just seventeen.” 

“While we have enough funds to get started, we want you as our partner,” Neville continued. “Even if you only invest a knut, it’s your involvement we want in our life. With a partnership, you wouldn’t have a chance to become a stranger.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Harry protested, moved by their sentiment and sly manoeuvering. 

“Not intentionally,” Blaise replied, “but you and Hermione have great plans for the future and sometimes people lose sight of each other while they’re busy. If anything, receiving quarterly statements and attending yearly meetings will keep us connected when it gets hectic.” 

Harry grinned. “How about I invest a tenth of my basilisk money in your venture? As Ragnok said, one can never have too much land and I’m guessing that you’ll want to expand sooner or later. Hell, I might come and do a stint for your snake breeding program, it’d look good on my CV.” 

“It’d look just as good on our portfolio,” Neville smirked. He clasped arms with Harry, his grip warm and secure. “Thank you, it means a lot to us.” 

“This is from Sirius and me,” Remus said and offered a large box. 

Harry spent a minute guessing the password - his dad and uncle were still big on setting ridiculous passphrases to their most prized possessions - and when the box finally revealed its contents, all Harry could do was gape. 

“The How-To-Book On Creating Security Maps,” he whispered and reverently stroked the gold-embossed cover of the manuscript. “That’s amazing! Why are you parting with the secret?” 

Remus smiled. “We thought that it’d make a great boon for future partners and endeavours… like Neville and Blaise’s. Their land will house a large number of rare magical creatures and plants, it’s only logical to assume that unsavoury types will try their hand at stealing them. A security map with live tracking will be a game-changer.” 

“They can be bound to blood or magic?” Harry asked faintly. The possibilities whirling in his mind seemed nearly endless. 

Sirius smiled lazily. “Of course, pup. It’s up to House Potter to make this treasure available now. Use it wisely, and always leave yourself a backdoor, in case people are being insufferable morons.” 

“Thank you, thank you both so much,” Harry said roughly. “If I ever go commercial, you’ll of course earn a share.” 

“No more than ten percent,” Remus said quietly. “It is meant to be a _gift_.” 

“Ten percent,” Harry agreed. “For your rugrats, once they start arriving, if not for yourself. Sirius, of course, might need it to feed his paramours.” 

“He has enough, now,” Gisele murmured in her seductive, deep voice, patting both Sirius and Camilo on the thigh. 

Harry, Sirius, and Remus smiled a little mistily at each other, but the moment couldn’t last long when a dozen people were keen on celebrating. 

There were more presents from Cedric, the Weasley twins, who’d also become very good friends and partners during the last year, Susan Bones and her betrothed Hannah Abbott, and of course the house elves. The gifts not from Harry’s closest circle of friends would be opened after the big bash so Harry would have enough time to appreciate them fully. 

“The last one is from several people, sort of,” Cedric said and levitated a medium-sized but heavy package over the table. He tried and failed to grin like a loon. “I can’t wait to see your face.” 

“Now I’m worried,” Harry said dryly but plucked at the bow and watched, mesmerized, as the wrapping shawl fell open elegantly. “What is that?” 

A slipcase in dark, yet vibrant colours appeared, the slightly metallic sheen reflecting the mild morning light. The title was _Collected Works Documenting The Rapid Fall Of Magical Britain After Voldemort’s Reign Of Terror (And No, Not Everything Has Got To Do With Harry Potter)_. Five books were neatly stacked inside, each one a different colour. The Gringotts logo featured in the lower right corner of the cover. 

Baffled, Harry pulled out the first one, which was a silvery blue. “ _How Voldemort Was Really Defeated, Despite Most Magicals In Great Britain Being Bleeding Morons_ ?” He stared at the author's name on the cover. “ _You_ wrote this, Hermione?” 

“Yes, though I had some help from Remus and Professor McGonagall. Someone had to since everyone was so utterly gormless,” Hermione defended herself. “I can’t stand the fact that Fudge more or less awarded himself an order of Merlin before he ‘gracefully stepped down for the next generation’.” 

“Once the books go public he probably won’t get to keep it,” Cedric said and smirked. 

Harry handed the book off to Susan Bones, who immediately opened it and began to read, Hannah hanging over her shoulder. The next one was titled _The Life And Lies Of Albus Dumbledore, Who Was Finally Sentenced To A Thousand Years In Prison For The Greater Good_. 

“Mione,” Harry laughed. “You’re terrible.” 

“I had outside help for that one,” Hermione said smugly. “Remember Rita Skeeter?” 

“The beetle animagus,” Harry recalled. She had given Hermione not a little grief once her involvement with some of the brightest minds in the world had become known. In Britain, nearly no one had believed that a fifteen year old girl could be smart enough to keep up with those masters, and people’s reaction had been vicious at times. “What did you do?” 

“I never reported her,” Hermione told him with a smug little smirk. “I knew that having something on her would come in handy one day, and it did. I set her on Dumbledore and she more than delivered. I forced her to co-write the book without her ridiculous quick quotes quill and will even let her have a small percentage of the royalties. She did good work, after all.” 

“May I ‘ave it, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked. “Dumblydore’s trial transcripts will be sealed for a decade and I cannot wait zat long. My muzzer will be thrilled!” 

“Be my guest,” Harry said and let the book float over the table with a wave of his hand. “The next one is _Fudge. A Criminal Career In Three Disappointing Acts_. Mi.” 

“What? That spineless worm deserves it,” Hermione shrugged, much to everyone’s mirth. “I mean, he chose _Umbridge_ as his side chick. That’s just wrong.” 

“Speaking of which.” Harry raised the fourth book and raised both eyebrows. “ _Turn Of The Toad, Or How A Failed Human Transfiguration Attempt Nearly Ruined Hogwarts_.” 

“You do not expect me to apologize, do you?” Hermione asked snottily and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And even if I did, all the students who helped write that book certainly won’t.” 

Around the table, people began to snicker. With a deft summoning charm, Neville snatched the book and showed it to Blaise, who promptly guffawed at Hermione’s dedication to the student rebellion in the front. 

“I’d never,” Harry soothed her and rubbed a hand along her arm. “Not after what she tried to do.” It was known everywhere that Umbridge had tried to more or less _sell_ Hermione to the highest bidder among her shady government contracts via ministerial degree because Hermione kept showing her up at every turn. This had led to all-out warfare at Hogwarts, the students against Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad. Some corridors at the school were still impassable, according to Harry’s friends. Even worse, Hermione’s contacts had involved the ICW and the World Court of Magic, resulting in a sound thrashing of the Ministry that eventually brought about Fudge’s _graceful_ retreat. 

“Take the last one,” Cedric urged with a peculiar look on his handsome face, successfully pulling Harry out of his thoughts. 

Harry slid the book from the slipcase. And stared. 

“What does it say?” Gisele asked, worriedly leaning forward. 

“Er …” Harry flushed and looked up to Hermione. 

“Pup?” Sirius leaned forward. “You’re worrying us a little.” 

Blinking, Harry snapped his mouth shut. “No, I … I’m fine. Just …” He turned the book and lifted it so everyone could read the title. “I think I’m gonna get married tonight.” 

He held his hand out to Hermione and felt a huge swell of love rush up inside of him as she accepted it without hesitation. The book was taken from his hands and passed around as she kissed him, neatly sliding onto his lap for better access. 

While their friends were cheering and raising their glasses, Hermione whispered, “Is it alright to publish that last book? Ragnok won’t if you don’t agree.” 

Harry chuckled. “Love, you titled the book _From Know-it-all To Lady Potter, Or: An Ode To The Love Of My Magical Life_ . With a _ring_ attached to the ribbon! How the hell can I say no to that?” 

“I love you, Harry,” Hermione murmured and bent her head to kiss him again. 

“Are you really sure about this?” Harry asked, a little dazed from her enthusiasm. “I don’t mind waiting a little longer.” 

“I am,” she murmured, trailing her lips over his cheek and towards his ear. “It’s got a little to do with avoiding stupid men who think they can somehow subjugate me, but mostly I just want to be with you. My parents are fully behind this, so if you really, truly want it, we can do it tonight.” 

“I want,” Harry assured her. “Merlin, how I want.” He raised his voice. “Guys, there’ll be a wedding tonight! If you’ve got stuff to do, you’d better do it soon! Me and the bride, we’ll celebrate for a bit before helping.” 

The cheers came again, even louder this time. Despite loving all of them to pieces, Harry suddenly needed to be away from them. He grabbed Hermione, let his magic flare up, and apparated them right back into bed. 

oOo

That evening at sunset, High Priestess Gisele bound Harry and Hermione in a rite almost as old as magic itself. 

Although they hadn’t had much time for the procurement of elaborate decorations or fancy dresses, their flower-bedecked archway on the beach was nothing less than beautiful, and their very Caribbean wedding clothes were glittering softly with magic. Complimenting the tiny golden flecks of magic drifting through the air, and the tall torches stuck in the sand, magical algae in the waves began to shine in a soft, light blue when the glowing, orange sun kissed the horizon.

Surrounded by family and a lot of friends, who were all giving a bit of their magic in ritual, Harry and Hermione’s already existing bond to each other grew and changed into something so bright and lovely that Harry couldn’t have helped his tears of elation even if he’d wanted to when it was done. 

But he didn’t want to. He was happy right where he was. Who knew that getting disillusioned by his parents about certain things would result in such spectacular changes? After two sometimes horrible years, Voldemort was _gone_ while his family and friends were safe, Dumbledore and Harry’s muggle relatives, not to mention countless war criminals, were finally in prison, and Harry had married his soulmate. 

He already had a lot of great stories to tell his parents when he made it to the afterlife, and he couldn’t wait to add a life’s worth more to them. 

  
  


**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. Thanks for reading, I hope you had fun. To everyone who feels dissatisfied, his story was meant as a short story from the beginning, and yes, I did intend to leave a lot to the imagination. Please don't hound me for more, that's a sure-fire way to ensure that nothing will ever be written for it ever again. IF (and that's a big if) I should decide to write a 'meanwhile, in Hogwarts' portion, it'll probably be inserted here. But, don't count on it or anything. 
> 
> Stay safe! :)


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